


Why We Hide

by three_piece_suit



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Original Character(s), This Took Two Months
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3648876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/three_piece_suit/pseuds/three_piece_suit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rafael Barba gets a strange text one day he is propelled back into memories of a relationship he had during his time at Harvard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue and Chapter 1

**Prologue**

As soon as he got out of court, his phone buzzed. He desperately wanted to get coffee before his next case so as he pulled his jacket on simultaneously, he dropped his leather bag on the bench outside courtroom four and pulled his phone out. The usual suspects: missed call from McCoy, missed call from Sergeant Benson, a new report alert about an accident on the Verrazano, and a text from an unknown number. That wasn’t necessarily strange and the Manhattan area code didn’t alarm him. He did a quick time-check, calculating his time between getting to the next courtroom and coffee. He put his gloves in his mouth while he stuffed his files into his bag and then quickly glanced back at his phone to check what the message from the unknown number said. Very simply it had the words:

_Did you pick a topic for that paper yet?_

Rafael Barba froze. He stared at the message in disbelief, unable to move or think. Court, trials, files, even coffee left his mind. In fact his mind shut down completely and instead his heart swelled. He sat down on the bench beside his bag as his mind kicked back on again and began to race. He didn’t know what to say back. Should he say anything back? He leaned back against the bench, emotion filling him. Suddenly time was frozen and there was no one else in the world anymore but him and her. Again. He slowly shut his eyes, feeling in between the happiest he’d ever been and crying uncontrollably. Bringing his phone to rest against his chest for a moment, he prepared a text back. He couldn’t not text her back. While trying to think, memories flooded him.

Her beach house, picking out ties, the look she’d given him when she got her first A in philosophy of law thanks to him. Kisses, her blonde hair in his fingers, this insatiable hunger. But then that night. Her bruises and tears. And then the silence. And the injustice he swore to fight…

Suppressing tears, he steadied himself and lifted his phone in front of him again.

_Did you pick a topic for that paper yet?_

He stopped thinking and typed what came to him instead.

_Where can I meet you?_

Then panic struck. He had responsibilities this afternoon but now he couldn’t concentrate on any of them even if he tried. He put in a call to James, his assistant who was the head on the arraignment that he had next and asked if he could do it by himself since something had come up. James agreed he could do it and would call him if he needed anything. The reply came after his phone call.

 _Central_ _in 30_ , she responded.

Barba picked up his things, threw on his jacket, stuffed his phone in his pocket and took the stairs. His heart raced, his mind pounded. He wanted to cry and hug her and disappear at the same time. The darkness of the staircase hid himself from his emotions for the moment until he walked out into the sunlight and turned towards the park. He would walk the distance which he thought would help him breathe. But instead it helped him remember everything.

**CHAPTER 1**

Books and papers flew everywhere. Rafael immediately began apologizing. He really hadn’t seen her turning the corner.

“Let me…”

“Just stop, stop.” Her voice was angered, frustrated. He knew her from class but she looked different. Her blonde hair was tied up in a messy knot, her make up wasn’t fresh and her eyes were puffy. This was unlike her.

“I didn’t…”

“It’s _fine_ ,” but he knew it wasn’t. She gathered her belongings from the floor and turned to go. Rafael’s shy nature around people like her for some reason switched off. The feeling in his gut was that something was wrong.

“Um, wait,” she didn’t hear him. “Wait!” She turned, annoyed.

“Look, forget it, I have to…”

“Can I just get you coffee? You look like shit.”

 _What?!_ He stood frozen. _What did I just say?!_

He wanted to turn and run and hide forever and never come back. Her face was priceless. At first, it didn’t change. But then a look of anger and shock grew and he was petrified.

 _Great, her father is on the board of the Law school. Whelp, there goes my scholarship. Guess I’ll go back to working that paper route for the rest of my natural life_.

“What did you just say?” Her voice was calm and collected and her eyes searched his.

He suppressed an unplanned laugh, wanting to relieve himself of the embarrassment but knew better than to even let out a giggle.

“I am so…” But she beat him too it. She burst out laughing instead. Her eyes filled with tears while she laughed and Rafael stood stupefied, completely unaware of the protocol for this situation.

“Finally!” she said after she brushed away the tears, “Finally someone who will be honest with me! Yes, yes, I’d really like coffee.” She continued giggling as she walked back towards him. Rafael was on compete autopilot. He had no idea what to say, what to do. He followed her lead and waited for her for to say something. “Do you have a paper topic yet? Rafael, right?”

 _How the hell does she know my name_? “Mhmm,” he got out. “Well, I didn’t really…”

“Oh come on. You’re not going to completely insult me and then be shy are you?”

“I just wasn’t…”

“Look, I’m going to go back to my place and get cleaned up. I just failed my test and I want to disappear but I know I’m not going to able to sleep until tonight anyway so I might as well get something to eat right?”

Rafael didn’t know what to say back but he figured he’d better get a word in edgewise. “What did you have in mind?” He had no idea where he came up with the line but it shot out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Her eyebrows raised. “Greenhouse? Thirty minutes?”

He shrugged but couldn’t suppress a smile. “See you then.” As she walked away, his heart started racing. He headed into the closest classroom he could find. His inner dialogue sprung to life: _ARE YOU INSANE?! You realize you’re here on a free ride because you can’t actually pay for school right? You’re lucky they include a meal plan! How are you supposed to do lunch? What does “do lunch” mean anyway? Is there tea involved?_

Of course he wanted to run home and throw on a tuxedo thinking that he still might be underdressed for her. And he’d insulted her! He burred his face in his hands. He didn’t even know her! And yet he did.

Picking himself up from the empty classroom, he wouldn’t have time to run home so he went outside into the sunlight. Even though it was still cold outside as spring hadn’t come to Massachusetts yet, the warmth was still a wonderful feeling. He knew her name. He knew her father was on the board of trustees for Harvard Law which meant that without him he wouldn’t be there on his full scholarship. He felt like he was obligated to take the president’s daughter out to lunch. How was he going to pay for it?! The money his mother sent him from home was only really enough to cover his rent. He wished he could shut his brain off. As he made his way to the Greenhouse café he tried to reframe the experience. Lunch. This is getting lunch with a classmate. That’s all.

He took the long way all the way around Cambridge common park and Dawes Island Park even though it was way out of his way. Entering the café and sitting down, he looked around, knowing he could spot her anywhere. She was hard to miss but he didn’t see her.

Before long she was late. When she finally bustled in through the front door, she was different. She made a ruckus everywhere she went since she knew everyone.

“Andy! It thought it was supposed to be spring!” She waved at Rafael as she spoke to the barista.

The guy she called Andy laughed back at her. “The usual Miss Huntingdon?”

“Geez, it’s Charlotte already!”

“Yes ma’am,” she laughed lively as she bounced over to where Rafael was sitting quietly. He had gotten his books out so he didn’t seem like he was there waiting for someone that he didn’t know would come. She dropped her bag and jacket that were worth more than his house back home in New York on the chair beside the one she’d be sitting in across him. “Andy, I think you’re missing the point of ‘first name basis’!” Andy laughed from over the sound of the steamer.

Her smile was contagious. “What do you want Rafael?”

He wasn’t expecting that question. “Oh, nothing, I’m fine.”

She switched to a dramatically skeptical position by shifting her weight to one side, putting a hand on her hip, and cocking her head. She had definitely washed her face but hadn’t really applied much makeup. The bags under her eyes had magically disappeared though and he couldn’t tell if it was the lighting in the café or she was really a sorceress. She’d run a brush through her hair and redid it up in a neater bun with a couple blonde strands hanging down in her face as if even though rushing she was still put together. Unlike her normal clothes which were also worth more than his life insurance policy probably, she was wearing a simple _Harvard Law_ maroon sweatshirt with a white cashmere scarf. Her jeans hugged her nicely as they tucked in a pair of leather boots.

“Andy!” she called, turning towards the barista again, “Make it two.”

“You got it.”

“Really,” Rafael protested, “You don’t have to…”

“I know I don’t. So,” she plopped down in the chair across from him. “Do you have a paper topic yet?”

This could go badly. Rafael took a moment to survey his options here. He could run away and never come back which seemed like his favorite option. But at the same time, he liked being here with her. She was the complete opposite of everyone he knew from home. She was who his family always warned would take everything away from him: the rich, white, and privileged. His mother’s voice rang in his ears, “They take everything from us, Rafael. Don’t trust them. We’ve had to work twice as hard to have twice as little as they have.” Despite this, here he was. With one of _them_. She didn’t seem like the wanted to _take everything from him_. To get his confidence up however, he played off of what his mom always said. _Fine,_ he thought _, you want to play like we’re equal? Let’s play._

“Yeah, actually I started working on it last week. I’m halfway done.”

Her face fell. “You’re kidding.”

He shrugged, pretending to ignore her sadness. “It’s not that bad.” Andy came over with their coffees and dropped them on the table. She didn’t take her eyes off of him, staring in disbelief. Quickly she reached into her bag and pulled out their last exam.

“Look at this!” she yelled, turning some heads in the café. _C_ -. “I fucking failed it.” Her eyes filled with tears. Suddenly he wanted to take back his harshness and let his shy side take over. In fact, it was begging him to let it. But something told him not to let his guard down.

“What happened?” He asked nonchalantly. She studied him closely, her eyes narrowing, small tears still forming.

She leaned forward and her voice lowered, “I failed an exam and I’m crying about it and that’s what you ask?”

He swallowed hard. Fear was etched in his face and he knew it.

Before he could defend himself she cut in, turning her head to the side and smiling. “What’s with you? You’re not yourself.”

“You don’t even know me.” His answer came automatically. He should have left it, but his mouth, which had always caused him problems, got in the way again. “What do you want me to say? Do you want me to say I feel sorry for you?” _SHUT UP!_ “Because I don’t.” He started packing up his things. “Why don’t you call your father and ask him to pay for an A? I’m done here.” He stuffed his things back in his bag angrily, looking for his wallet so he could pay for the extra-cappa-frappa-whatever drink that he hadn’t even touched.

_Whelp, this is it. There goes my whole career. There goes my scholarship, everything. Done. Nice knowing ya._

A smile stretched across her face. She sat back in her chair as she watched him pack up, crossing her arms over her chest and studying him carefully.

Before he stood, he reached into his wallet but her hand suddenly appeared over his to stop him.

“You know what?” Reaching across the table she looked right into his eyes. Hers were a dancing blue. They were intense and now excited and hiding tears but she was grimacing in a sickening way. “You’re right. He does try and pay for my grades. He’s done it before. And I fucking hate him for it. I’m here because he wants me to be.” She sat back, a tear dropping from her eye. “You think you know _me_ , Rafael? Why don’t you tell me why your father never tried hard enough to get his son into college?”

Time stood still. Rafael’s hands curled into fists. Her eyes traveled to them.

“That much, huh?” She took a sip of her drink.

“What do you want me to say? That my hand still curls into a fist every time I think about him? I’ve wished him dead more times than I can count. Every time he laid a hand on me…” he took a deep breath, getting his composure back, purposely flexing his hands. She hadn’t taken her eyes off him but her smile had faded.

She spoke instead. “When I said I wanted to go to veterinary school, I didn’t get a ‘pursue your dreams, honey’ I got a ‘no, you’ll go to Harvard Law, honey’. The control. And then we spend all our time,” she indicated his hands, “trying to get it back.”

The silence between them must have lasted for years. Gently his anger came down and she waited patiently for him to speak. Before he could say anything, her phone rang. He could see the lights fall out of her eyes.

“Hello? Mhmm. No, I didn’t talk to her. Porter said she didn’t want to do London. Mom I don’t give a fuck where she goes.” She bit her lip and looked up at him, rolling her eyes. “Sorry.” And again. “I won’t use that language.” Lights danced back into her eyes as she looked into his. “Yes, okay. I’ll make my lesson. I have to get back to work.” Pause. “Working on it right now. Yes, I’m sure he did tell you about it. I have to go,” and she hung up.

Rafael spoke up, “Can I pay you for…?”

“Tell you what,” she smirked, “I’ll pay for this and you help me come up with a paper topic.” Suddenly the lights in her eyes bounced and she lifted an eyebrow. “Do we have a deal, counselor?”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Deal.”

“Please,” she said getting up, “It’s Char.”

 

* ~~ * ~~ *

A couple study sessions and weeks later, Rafael left his closet-of-a-room and walked himself to the library to meet her. It was a chilly day even though spring was around the corner and he was happy to have to wear a light jacket. It was the only new item of clothing he owned. He retracted his hands up into his sleeves to keep his hands warm. His sweater underneath was big enough to cover them and thin enough that the jacket was necessary.

She was waiting for him at a table with books spread out everywhere. Her hair was pulled up like before but this time it was a little wet as if she had recently showered and her light makeup made her look like she hadn’t even left home and the library as an extension of her living room. She had switched out the chairs normally available at study tables for lounge chairs and piled pillows from the actual lounge on the seats so she was up high enough to reach the table. He couldn’t help slowing his walk as he approached so he could watch her concentrate for a couple more moments, wondering what she was really thinking. What was it like to go to bed every night in pajamas that were worth more than his entire wardrobe? To not have to want for anything? And yet every time he looked in her eyes there was a strange sadness that he couldn’t place.

Suddenly she looked up and there was a moment of pause as she recognized him and then her face lit up. She bounced once in her seat and threw up her arms as if she was on a roller coaster.

“Join the part-ay!” Other students in the library gave her dirty looks and Rafael rushed forward, laughing while he shushed her. She just snorted back, not caring what the rest of the studying students thought.

He sat in the lounge seat opposite her.

“I see you’ve done some furniture rearranging.”

She beamed at him and curled a loose strand of hair around her finger as he pulled his notes out. “I think it adds a personal touch. So my paper is almost done thanks to you.”

He interrupted, setting down his legal pad, “You know we probably shouldn’t be talking about this case together.”

She gave him a doubting look as she flipped through her case notes. “It’s so cute how you like to follow rules. So, mister prosecutor, let go over the details.”

He shook his head, knowing this was probably way against the rules. But something made him stay and ignore what might be right or wrong. For once, he did what _felt_ right.

Charlotte settled a pair of glasses on her nose and began outlining the case. “Okay, so we have our victim, James Kelley, who was stabbed 24 times in the chest.”

Rafael nodded, “And his wife of 16 years, Amelia Kelley, who you are going to have a fun time defending.”

She ignored his condescension and continued, “And their 15-year-old son, Jordan Kelley, who came home from high school. He found his father lying dead in his parents’ bedroom.”

“His mother was in the shower?”

“That’s what he said.”

“Oh, yeah, here, in the police report,” he handed her the report and pointed to the line, “The police noted that her hair was still wet.”

“Whoah,” she said reading further in the report, “The son said outright that it was the mother.”

“Yeah I saw that. How would he know? He just got home.”

She shrugged. “I guess you’ll have to question your witness on that one. All I know is that she definitely didn’t do it.” She sat back in her lounge chair, satisfied.

“Oh really?” He followed suit. “That’s funny because reading through this it sounds open and shut.”

“Oh it is! Shut in your fucking face when the jury says not guilty.”

“Who is playing the son?”

“Charlie.”

“Charlie is going to play a fifteen-year-old bratty kid?” He put his head dramatically down on the table. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

She patted his head. “There, there counselor. I’ll give you a lollipop while my client walks out of the courtroom.”

He looked up at her. “Oh, she will: in handcuffs.”

“Hey there! Cuba’s got some comebacks!”

He laughed louder than he expected and opened his notepad and borrowed a pen from Charlotte. “Let’s go over the evidence.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Objection!” Charlotte shot up, her heel making a firm click on the ground.

“Grounds?”

“Asked and answered,” she said confidently. She didn’t even glance over at Rafael who stood midway between the witness box and where Charlotte stood.

“Sustained,” Dr. Wolff ruled.

Rafael’s face fell. Charlotte sat back down, crossing her legs smartly. He needed to ask a different question. But he paused because without the one he’d just asked his line fell apart. He paused and dashed quickly back to his desk where his notes were. All eyes were on him. But he was in his element.

“Mr. Kelley, could you tell me what you saw when you got home?”

Charlotte’s glare followed Rafael as he moved back towards the 15-year-old witness, now with his notepad in front of him.

“Like I said, I got home from school and walked in the front door. I went into the bedroom and my dad was just fucking laying there, dead. My mom stabbed him!”

“Objection!” Charlotte stood again, “Speculation.”

“Sustained. The jury will disregard the witness’ last statement.”

Rafael would usually think to ask the judge to instruct the witness to only answer what was asked but this kid was actually going to help his case if he kept it up.

“Mr. Kelley, what happened when you walked in the bedroom?” Rafael slowly walked toward the jury box.

“So I walked into the bedroom and my dad was laying on the bed. There was blood everywhere. I mean everywhere.”

Rafael nodded and jumped in with his next question before his witness took over again. “And did you see your mother?”

Charlotte sat poised for an objection while Jordan Kelley answered.

“Yeah, she was in the shower. She just killed my dad and she's in the shower.”

“Your honor!” Charlotte stood again, clearly annoyed this time.

“Stop!” Dr. Wolff stood from the bench. “Okay let's pause. Everyone sit.” Wolff came around from the bench and Rafael took his seat behind his desk. Josh, his assistant attorney patted his back. Rafael nodded to him. The classmate playing Jordan Kelley came down from the witness stand and perched on the prosecutions table. Rafael stole a glance over to Charlotte who had a nervous, curious expression as she watched Wolff. She could feel Rafael’s eyes rest on her and she turned to look at him. She was a new person from a week ago at the café. Her hair had a slight curl on its ends, her make-up was gentle and precise, and she was dressed back to her normal self with a crisp white button up shirt under a teal cashmere sweater, a black cotton skirt with a pair of Loubouton heels, none of which Rafael understood the meaning of. Yet. When her eyes met his, her look softened and her brow relaxed. Her lips moved into a challenging smile and she winked at him. Normally she would intimidate him but this was his element. He raised the corner of his mouth along with an eyebrow as if to accept her challenge.

“Mr. Barba what happened?” He shot back to attention.

“I'm sorry?”

Wolff crossed his arms and indicated Jordan, sitting on the prosecutions table. “Your witness is a mess.”

“My witness is acting fifteen,” Rafael shot back, not willing to give up his case under any circumstance.

“Charlie,” Wolff turned to the classmate playing Jordan, “Tell me about Mr. Barba’s prep process.”

Before Charlie could answer, Rafael spoke up, “This has nothing to do with prep! He’s just being an asshole kid.”

Charlotte turned in her chair towards the prosecution and settled back. “Sounds like you need to learn to control your witness. _Mr_. Barba.”

He narrowed his eyes at her grimace.

Charlie laughed. “It’s my fault really, I’m just trying to be difficult.” The courtroom stared at him. Wolff threw his hands up and walked back towards the bench.

“What?!” Charlie shrugged.

“Well knock it the hell off,” Dr. Wolff said taking his gavel back. Rafael gathered his notepad and stood.

“Mr. Kelley I’ll ask you again. When you got home, did you see your mother?”

“No, I didn’t see her but I heard the shower running.”

“What did you do next?” This line of questioning was easy for Rafael since this was his witness. While Jordan relayed his story he paced slowly across the center of the courtroom as they listened. He stopped short in front of the defense table. He looked right at Charlotte, sitting back in her chair, resting her head against her hand on the armrest, trying to appear unaffected.

“Mr. Kelley why did you tell the police that your mother was the one who killed your father?”

“There was no one else home when I got there. I know it was her because she hated him.”

He stood facing the jury box in between the defense and the witness stand. “Do you think your mother was capable of killing your father?”

“Objection, incompetence,” Charlotte didn’t even get up from her chair.

Rafael knew she would object to that question and was prepared for it. “Your honor the witness lived in the house with his mother.”

She sat forward. “The witness is a fifteen-year-old boy without a psychological background. He cannot answer as to her mental state.”

Rafael spun to face her. “I’m not asking him to testify to her mental state. Only what he saw at home.”

She stood up quickly. “Oh come on, that’s prejudicial.”

“Counselors!” Wolff interrupted. “Miss Huntingdon you are overruled. Mr. Kelley, answer the question.”

Charlotte, standing, leaned forward on the desk. “Your honor I want my objection noted for the record.”

“Miss Huntingdon your objection is noted. Please sit down.” Slowly she sat as her smile faded and she eyed Rafael suspiciously. He raised an eyebrow before turning away from her.

“Mr. Kelley, please. Do you think your mother is capable of killing your father?”

“Yeah, I do. She hated him, like I said. She yelled a lot too. She used to get really pissed at me out of nowhere. It was like she would snap.”

Rafael looked directly at the jury box. “Sounds to me like your mother was just waiting for a time to snap on your father.”

Charlotte flew up, slamming her hand on the desk. “Ob-!”

Rafael spun to her. “Withdrawn!” They held each other’s intense glances for what seemed like a lifetime.

Without breaking from her, Rafael walked slowly towards his desk. “The prosecution rests.”

“Good enough for today,” Dr. Wolff said, gaveling. “This court is in recess until Friday.”

“Ten!” Charlie announced, pounding his fist on the table. There was an air of agreement as the group decided to meet up at Ten Tables, their usual after-mock-court bar. Rafael did not attend as alcohol was not in his budget. Charlotte however, didn’t approve.

“Rafael,” she clicked over to his table as he was packing up his notepad. She smelled like unreachable perfection compared to his attempt at professionalism. The clothes he had on were too big for him as they were some of his fathers that his mom had put through the wash and taken to the laundromat to put in the dryer so they would shrink a little. But his sweaters and button ups were thin and baggy and he knew she could see through him. “Come with us.”

He smiled but continued to pack up, not looking at her through embarrassment. “I’ll pass. But thank you. Besides,” he looked up, pausing before he moved to leave, “It’s unethical for the defense and prosecution to get together during ongoing cases. _Miss_ Huntingdon.”

She sighed. “You’re right, of course. But I only feel that it’s fair to buy a drink for the loser.” She leaned in to whisper, adding a sarcastic pout, “I feel bad about your witness fiasco.”

He couldn’t help smiling defensively. “Oh you do?”

She turned to leave and motioned for him to walk with her. “I do! I don’t take discrediting his entire testimony lightly, counselor. Which is why…” as they made their way down the aisle, she raised her voice to everyone in the room, “drinks are on the prosecution!”

Rafael’s face fell and heart dropped. He glanced at her, terrified. She had on a wide smiled and winked at him. He glared at her through upturned eyes but she’d already said it and he was desperate to know her plan.

When they arrived at the bar, they found the five seats they needed at the counter.

“Char!” _Of course she knows the bartender,_ Rafael thought. “Usual?”

“Yes! And one for Rafael here.”

“You got it,” the bartender turned to the upper shelves behind the bar. Rafael had no idea what was happening but he went along with it.

Iris, the assistant attorney for the defense who worked with Charlotte leaned in, sipping on her beer. “Rafael, you’re like our mystery classmate. What the fuck do you even do?”

“He fucking reads all day,” Josh said, his beer having been delivered.

Rafael smiled and nodded. “Yup, that’s it. Reading. I just read law books in my spare time.” The straight-up glasses of Macallan 25 arrived in front of him and Charlotte. He picked up the glass and held it as if to make a toast. “It’s not easy but I do it because I have to give your fathers’ a place for their scholarship money to go. _Salud!_ ”

A round of _Ohhhhhhh!_ rang out through the other four classmates followed by laughter. Rafael had learned long ago from his smart mouth that if he can’t beat them, join them. Luckily this was enough for the group to appreciate him more. He tilted the glass to his mouth and let a small amount of the $35-a-glass scotch slip into his mouth. He could feel Charlotte drop her eyes on him. He closed his mouth and let the liquid fill him up. Suddenly he felt like he had taken a sip of a fireplace. He could taste the oak wood burning and the chestnuts crackling underneath. He swallowed all at once, and the fireplace spread down his throat, igniting warmth as it went. In his mouth he tasted the roasted, singed wood along with a twinge of cinnamon and apple. His body lit up and relaxed all at once. The feeling spread all over, orgasmically.

Slowly he opened his eyes and roved them over to Charlotte whose head was resting in her hand perched on the bar, a warm smile of satisfaction graced it. All he could do was nod. Her smile widened and she nodded back. Lifting her glass, she touched it to his and they took another drink together.

The conversation moved from their current mock case into their professors to politics to who wanted to run for president. Rafael was on his third scotch by the time Josh and Charlie decided to leave. The group thanked Rafael for the drinks even though he wasn’t the one paying. Charlotte and he stayed behind feeling their buzzes. Rafael’s body was glowing and his mood was elated. Whatever inhibitions he had before were gone now. Usually his busy mind was able to close his loud mouth but he’d had just enough scotch that the floodgates had quite a few cracks.

“So,” Charlotte pulled a hairband off her wrist and tied her hair loosely behind her. Rafael had rolled up his slightly droopy sleeves. She sat sideways so to face him and he kept his two elbows on the bar, holding his drink it its place. He couldn’t help a smile when he knew she was studying him. “Tell me about your dad.”

She sipped slowly, eyeing him. He spun to her. “Great opening question. Want my social security number too?”

She let out a single laugh. “If you’re offering.”

“Tell me about _YOUR_ dad.”

She took in a deep breath and turned her head towards the bar. “What’s there to know? Never hits me. Gives me everything I could want. Good lawyer.” She shrugged. “Not very interesting.”

Rafael didn’t miss a beat. “So why didn’t you go to veterinary school?”

She paused, unmoving. Then her head tilted. “You remembered that?”

He glanced at her over his tumbler. “Of course.”

Again she studied him for a moment before deciding how to answer. “Huntingdons aren’t vets; we’re lawyers. From Harvard. And we win our cases. All our cases. And then we marry a lawyer from Harvard who wins all his cases and then we fuck and have two-point-five kids and then they go to be lawyers at, you guessed it!, Harvard, and then we die.” She held up her glass triumphantly. “The great circle of life, Rafael.”

He couldn’t help letting out a laugh. “Sounds like you don’t get _everything_ you want.”

“Well,” she retorted, pinching his sweater, “looks like you didn’t either.”

“Aha! Yes, well, some of us need to pick our battles,” he took another swig, feeling a little more vulnerable.

She could sense his hesitation as she ordered their fourth round. “And which battles would they be?”

Something suddenly pulled in him. “Not wanting to go away to school because your mother might take the hits you were taking for her.” His fists coiled again as he gripped his glass tighter, drinking more, turning away from her.

Charlotte blinked and looked down. “That’s not your fault.”

He spun back to her. “Really? You’re going to tell me what isn’t my fault?”

“Seems like you can’t figure it out for yourself based on the evidence, counselor.”

His brows deepened and his mouth twisted. “Don’t mock me, Charlotte.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Barba.”

He leaned into her, his face burning. “Who do you think‑?“

She didn’t back away. “Who you I think I am? Who are _YOU?_ I know who I am. My family gave me an identity before I was born. At least you get to choose your own life. My brother committed suicide because he was gay because that’s-not-allowed-as-a-Huntingdon-so-he’d-better-fix-it,” she mocked in her father’s voice. The smallest evidence of tears gathered in the corners of her eyes but she pushed them back. “If I can not blame myself for my brother’s death then you can not blame yourself for what _you_ can’t control.”

His face wason fire as he slammed his drink on the counter and ran his fingers through his hair. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why are you hiding from me?” she shot back.

“Why do you care?”

She matched his fury, “Because for once in my life I want to know someone. I don’t care about your fucking bank account or your job or where you come from. I care about you.”

His heart broke. “You _should_ ask where I come from. After being raised by my father I don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“You’re afraid you’ll be like him.”

“Sometimes I feel like him. Look at me,” he indicated his white fists.

She instinctively put her hand on top of his fist. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Something instinctively moved to protect her. At the thought of her being afraid he covered her hand instead and looked her in her eyes. “I would never hurt you. Please,” he begged abruptly. He didn’t know why but he needed her to believe him. Something ached for her to understand.

“I don’t think you would-“

“No,” he interrupted. She needed to understand. “I don’t want you to just not be afraid. I need to you know I would never hurt you. I…I need you to trust me.”

“I trust you.” She answered without even a moment in between.

He should have stopped. He should have taken her word for it. The scotch had made him be vulnerable and now he was feeling exposed. His defenses noticed their weaknesses and began to guard again.

“You think it’s that easy?” he spat. She pulled back in surprise. “You think you can just pay me for your grades instead of your father? Is that how you think it works? Sure, use the kid from the Bronx. He’s broke, pay him instead.”

Her face twisted into anger and she pulled herself away, standing up now. “Is that what you think this is?”

The bar was staring. “Oh, _this_? We’re a _this_? You think you can use that to get me to do what you want and then try and find out just where it hurts?”

Suddenly her eyes burst into hot tears. “You know what Rafael? Fine!” Her anger boiled. She opened her bag with fumbling hands and pulled out her wallet. “Here!” She took out her credit cards and a couple hundred dollar bills and two twenties. There was an ATM card, credit cards to various stores, an American Express and a picture of what he guessed would be her brother. “TAKE IT! TAKE ALL THE MONEY! TAKE EVERYTHING! It was never about the money! Of all people I thought you would be the first person to understand that! But I was wrong. I was really wrong.” And she tore out of the bar.

Rafael stood speechless. He leaned against the bar, running his hand through his hair again. He swore to himself as the bartender came around from the bar.

“I…I’m sorry,” Rafael didn’t know what to say as he bent down to help him clean up her things.

“Hey,” the bartender said back, “it’s okay. I’ll get this. Go get her.”

“What?”

“Go,” he insisted.

Rafael hesitated but then got up, as non-tipsy as he could, and ran out of the bar.

_What do I even say?_

“Charlotte!” She had crossed the street. He ran after her. “Stop!” Car! Oops, another car. Honks. “Please stop!”

He caught her, panting more than usual from the effects of the alcohol and stepped in front of her.

“I’m sorry, please, Charlotte stop.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” her voice was calm.

“But I do. I’ll talk.”

She stopped and he took a deep breath.

“I don’t think I want to hear what you have to say anymore.”

“It’s not about the money.” He had to search himself for the right words which was usually not something he struggled with. “Please, just give me a chance.”

“I did.” She relentlessly tried to walk forward as he kept stopping her.

“You don’t know me.”

Suddenly her anger was back. “Oh, right, but you know me?”

“Oh, come on-“

“Come on?!” she stopped this time.

“What can I do? Please, I’ll do it.” His face fell as he pleaded with her. _Why is this so important anyway, he questioned himself._

She looked him in the eyes as her face turned to sadness. She opened her mouth and closed it again. “I don’t have time for this. I have a case to prepare for. And sometimes you can’t fix everything. There’s nothing you can do.” She dropped her eyes to the sidewalk and moved to walk away.

He didn’t know if it was the scotch, or her, or both.

“Fuck,” he swore, grabbing her arm and turning her into the alleyway in between two townhouses.

“Rafael, what-?!”

He took her shoulders and pressed her against the wall. “Yes. There is something I can do.” His hand touched her face and he leaned into her, his mouth finding hers. She surged back into the bricks for a moment and instinctively wanted to push him away but she didn’t. He was burning and unconsciously she felt his thumb wipe tears from her face. Realizing her hesitancy he pulled away.

Quickly he bowed his head, “I’m sorry, I-“

“Shut up,” she curled a fist around the front of his loose shirt and pulled him back into her. Her mouth burned against his, the taste of scotch and hot anger filled them. Not expecting her desire for him to be returned, he felt a surge of craving for her and moaned against her mouth. A sudden fear of his own coveting swept over him and he broke away, turning from her and putting a hand to his swollen lips.

“I’m sorry,” he tried again.

“Don’t-“

He held up a hand and then placed it on his hip as he paced for a moment. She leaned against the wall, catching her breath.

“I don’t want to regret this. It’s too fast.”

“Okay,” she said quickly, raising her eyebrows. “I didn’t-“

“I’m drunk. I need…” he ran his hand though his short, dark hair again, “I need to get home. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Rafael, it’s fine,” she tried to assure him.

“Okay, yeah, look, I’ll see you on Saturday at the library, right? Usual time?”

“Of course. I’ll be there.”

“Okay, good.” And with that he picked up his bag and left. She couldn’t help smiling as she leaned against the wall, trying to process the events. Letting out a deep breath, she turned to go as well, the sensation of his hand still on her cheek.


	3. Chapter 3

“Weekend plans?” Charlotte asked after they were dismissed from philosophy of law.

“Besides coming up with a kick-ass closing argument against you, not really,” Rafael retorted, actually looking forward to watching her face fall when the jury gave him a standing ovation.

She smirked. Coming over where he was packing up, she hopped up on the table in front of him. The two had conveniently forgotten the week before. Actually, it was at the forefront of both of their minds. But each had their own way of not showing it.

“Ever been to a polo match?” She raised her eyebrows up and down in gest.

“Uhhh, no,” he laughed in an as-if kind of way.

“Ever been on a horse?”

“Again, no.”

“Been to a barn?”

He stopped and looked up at her. “Does my old neighborhood count?”

“That’s what I thought. You now have plans this weekend. Pack.” She got off the table and slung her bag over her shoulder.

“Pack what?” Rafael didn’t like surprises. She raised an eyebrow at him as if to say “I know you barely have anything to pack and that’s okay but just know that I know so just pack whatever you have.” He rolled his eyes and nodded, understanding.

 

He had asked her to only honk once and he would come out but instead there was a knock at the door. _No, no, no!_ he thought, embarrassment creeping into his cheeks. Mrs. Ramirez opened the door before he could stop her.

Charlotte smiled brightly and pushed her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head, pushing strands of her lazy ponytail out of her face.

“Mrs. Ramirez?”

“Sí. ¿Eres Charlotte?” Which she said as “shar-latte.”

“¡Sí! Es tan agradable conocerte por fin!”

Rafael was mortified. Quickly he gathered his singular bag and pushed past his aunt.

“Hi. Are you ready? We should get going.”

Charlotte laughed at his embarrassment but wanted to give him a break. “Okay, I’ll wait in the car.”

“Right behind you.” But he was stopped.

“Rafael!”

“Mi tía, por favor…”

“Rafael, ella es hermosa! ¿Por qué no…?”

"Sí, ya sé que es, tía.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek, “Te veré en un par de días.”

Charlotte kept her mouth shut until they were both in her car and she had turned the corner.

By then she couldn’t help herself. “Raf, she is precious.”

He couldn’t hide his embarrassment. “Yes, she’s a very good aunt.”

Charlotte glanced over at him doubtfully.

Suddenly he turned to her. “Since when do you speak Spanish?!”

She laughed, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me Rafael.” He wanted to come back with something sharp but she continued. “I have something for you. Well, some _things_ actually.” She indicated the backseat.

There was a duffel bag sitting with a pair of lightly bruised Oxfords placed next to it. Inside each shoe was a rolled up striped red and yellow sock. Rafael didn’t move.

“Well?!” Charlotte said through her sunglasses. “Open it!”

“I don’t…”

“Open it!” She said again, laughing at his shyness. He very carefully pulled the bag from the back to the front and into his lap. Sliding open the zipper he found clothes. He didn’t touch them.

“What is this?”

She still had a smile on from her excitement but it faded slightly at the question. Pausing to find the right words, “Look, Raf, I know you don’t come from…I’m not trying to say that I don’t appreciate what…”

“I get it. I’m poor. I know that. But what-”

“They’re…they were…my brothers. Clothes. They were his.” The silence in the car could have exploded ear drums.

“Char…”

“I know what you’re going to say. And honestly, I don’t want to hear it. I’m the one who asked you to come. I know you’re not going to let me buy you a bunch of new things because you’re too proud for that. Though I want to take you…anyway. Look, I’m not asking you to keep them. But I know you would feel uncomfortable being here without acting the part. I know it sounds ridiculous but this might seem like another world to you and I don’t want you to feel out of place. I want you to be yourself but not…”

“Charlotte, I get it.”

“No, but really, I don’t want…”

“But really,” he stopped her. She looked at him with trepidation. He looked relaxed, reassured. “Are you sure they’ll fit?”

She breathed again and her smiled returned. “Well, they should be close!”

He laughed while he clambered into the backseat. “Don’t look!”

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Watch the road!”

 

Luckily the drive from the University to South Hamilton wasn’t too far. Parking, Rafael alighted from the car, feeling a bit strange. The clothes fit him surprisingly well but he still wasn’t used to them. His light brown oxfords matched the light brown belt which wrapped around a pair of Brooks Brothers khakis. The sleeves were a little long on his light blue and white striped button up and he carried the tweed blazer with a sky blue handkerchief puffing from the front breast pocket. His nose didn’t feel right carrying the pair of Ralph Lauren sunglasses but they _were_ polarized which meant he could look right into the sun with no problem.

“Raf,” Charlotte came around the car, “I’m going to do things without telling you what I’m doing so just pick up on the hints okay? You’ll be fine.” He wasn’t sure what she meant at first but she popped the trunk on her car and there was a giant rectangular bag in the middle. One next to it was long and thin. She picked up the large rectangular one and stood for a moment, staring at Rafael. He quickly picked up the hint. Throwing on his blazer, he picked up the long thin one for her and shut the trunk. She tipped her sunglasses down and winked at him. “I’m going in to get changed. Do you see those chairs lined up by the field? Take a seat in any of them and,” she indicated the bag he was holding, “have these ready.” She took off towards the building that looked like some rich person’s house and he made his way towards the field. In this case he liked having the glasses because they could hide his darting glasses looking all around. He took a seat in one of the white chairs and reached into the bag. He pulled out three mallets which looked like they were for playing croquet. While eyeing them up and down, feeling the wood and seeing the divots in them, wondering how they had been made, he hadn’t noticed time passing around him. He glanced around, his mind suddenly aware that he wasn’t familiar with his surroundings. There were so many more people. Someone was sitting next to him. A woman in a flowery outfit. Who was she? Was he allowed to stay here? What does he do with the mallets? He looked up to see if…

Everything disappeared.

He forgot his name. He forgot why he was here. For a moment, he had to remember to breathe.

She was walking towards him. Different.

No blazers and heels. No button ups and curls.

Her hair was tucked under her helmet into a tight bun and the bright red of her polo shirt brightened her face. In the middle of two logos and a navy blue color was bright red lettering that read “ _Harvard Polo”_ in the middle. Her left sleeve had the number 2 and he guessed her back did as well. Her dark brown belt contrasted with her vividly white breeches but matched her equally dark boots. Strapped over the top of them were large matching kneepads and she was pulling on a pair of gloves. After taking all of that in in one glance, Rafael returned to what she wore best, her smile. She was beaming and didn’t take her eyes off of his as she walked forward. The people sitting around him greeted her and said “good luck” but she barely paid attention to them. When she reached him, he stood, heart pounding.

“You look incredible.” _What?!_ He had no idea why he said it or that he was even going to say it. In a complete disconnect, his mouth said what he was thinking without requesting permission first.

She didn’t seem phased. “You clean up nicely, yourself.” She reached out her hands and took the mallets from him. “Just be yourself.”

His brow furrowed. “What do-?” but before he could ask she leaned in and gave him a small peck on the cheek. With that she jogged off with her mallets over to her waiting mount with the rest of her team. Just as he was trying to process the last couple seconds he heard his name. Thinking it was his scrambled brain playing tricks on him, he ignored it and went to sit again.

“Mr. Barba?” This time he was sure it was someone. He spun around to see a slightly younger version of Charlotte standing there. She removed her sunglasses and held out her hand. “You must be Rafael! Wow!” She put her hands on her hips, “Those clothes really _do_ fit you! Come on!” She indicated him to follow her. Glancing over, Rafael could see Charlotte swinging herself over the top of the pony to land cutely on top.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so rude. I’m Porter, Char’s sister. Come on, we have a table. Wait.” She was a fast talker but then put her hands to her mouth. “She didn’t tell you we were going to be here, did she? That’s just like her. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. You _ARE_ cute! Okay come on.” Rafael’s head spun.

_What did she just…? I’m what?_

He followed her through the manicured grass and white chairs back to one of the tables with a large umbrella over it. Sitting underneath was a woman turned around talking to another woman seated at the table next to her. They were laughing about something. Porter was dressed a little too much for the summer and not enough for the spring. Her flowing yellow dress with a light white sweater over it did not seem very warm. After this thought passed it suddenly struck him what was happening.

_If this is Charlotte’s sister, this woman must be her…oh no_.

“Mom!”

The woman put up a finger to Porter.

Porter didn’t seem to want that answer. “Mom! I found him.” This caused the woman to spin around. She flipped her sunglasses to the top of her head and stood up. She was dressed more appropriately in his mind in a pair of crisp dark jeans and a navy blue and white sweater over a white button up. She definitely appeared warmer as she reached out a hand to shake his. Gratefully his mind switched to autopilot and he firmly grasped hers, shaking, and saying “Nice to meet you.”

Porter plopped down in a chair to his left. “Mom, she totally didn’t tell him.”

The woman’s face fell and she looked from Rafael to her daughter and back. A whistle blew from out on the field.

She addressed him. “Charlotte didn’t tell you anyone else would be here, did she?” A small smirk spread across her face.

“No ma’am,” he answered sweetly, sitting down in the white wicker chair.

“Oh, my goodness, please, it’s Julia. I’m Charlotte’s mother and I see you’ve met Porter.” Porter quickly put her hands in a square around her face to imitate a picture frame. “They should have this game in the bag.” She paused for a moment, looked Rafael up and down. Her head fell to one side and a look of intense sadness was coupled with a gentle smile. “Those clothes fit you nicely.”

Before Rafael could comment, noise came up from the surrounding spectators. In the middle of the field, eight horses were in a squabble. The ball had been bowled in and the match begun. Rafael had no idea what he was watching but he had a general idea of the concept.

“Raf,” Porter leaned forward, taking to a nickname basis already, “think of it this way: soccer with sticks on a horse.”

Rafael slowly nodded. Charlotte was following a teammate down the field. He wished he could slow it down and watch her carefully, but the game moved fast. Following the ball he expected the person who was winding up their mallet to hit it but they sped past the ball. Instead, Charlotte came through, rounded her swing, and swung a forehand shot forward. The person who had gone ahead got in line with her shot and took the ball. Quickly however, an opposing member bumped right into her and threw her off the line.

“Hook her, hook her,” Porter said from behind him.

As he sat watching, he took notice of himself. The clothes fit him alright, a little tight around the waist from all of his aunt’s cooking. The belt was on the final hole but it was beautiful leather.

“Awwww!” went up from the crowd as Charlotte tried to ride off an opposing member but she couldn’t push anymore without crossing the line of the ball. She backed off and went to swing around, leaving it for the defensive player to make an offside pass back to her.

He wiggled his toes in the Oxfords. They weren’t very comfortable and already he could feel them pressing in but they were completely solid. He had noticed while he crossed the parking lot that the heels had a gentle click to them. He couldn’t remember the last time he had to lace up shoes that weren’t sneakers. The socks felt way out of place and with his feet on the grass they were visible: bright red and yellow. It made him smile.

_Is this…fashion?_

Suddenly at the other end of the field four sticks were up in the air. A whistle was blown.

“Oh yeah,” Porter said, standing, “they’d better fucking appeal that shit.”

“Porter! I don’t want to hear that language out here! We’ve talked about this, for goodness sake.”

“Yeah but seriously mom that should be at least a two!”

“Alright but save the vulgarity.”

Rafael laughed. Despite her inability to close her mouth, he liked Porter. She would have done well back in the Bronx. Perhaps not with the yellow dress, but the personality fit. Yelena came to mind for a moment, but then he gently shook her out and refocused.

His shirt was uncomfortable because it was so crisp and when he turned his head he could feel it press into his neck. He was used to more collapsible clothing. The blazer was constricting as well but it was a cool day and it was actually keeping him warm. He made sure that the blue pocket square stayed where it was. God forbid he lose something of her brothers, he checked on its place every couple minutes.

The first chukker ended with a score of 2-0 for the opposing team. Rafael watched Charlotte swing herself off her horse and someone brought her a new one. The team got together and discussed for a little before breaking.

“Mr. Barba, what can I get you?” Rafael spun. There was a gentleman standing there in a white and black uniform, addressing him. Addressing him for what?

Porter broke in quickly, “He’ll have an iced tea too.”

Mrs. Huntingdon spun around again. “Would you cut him a break?” She leaned towards him, “Rafael please, order anything you want.”

His eyes grew wide. “No, no, an ice tea sounds perfect. Really.”

The man nodded and walked off.

“What?!” Porter yelled in Rafael’s ear. He looked at her but realized she was looking past him to the field. He looked in her direction and found Charlotte mounted on an energetic pony, her mallet pointed right at Rafael. Everyone stared.

“Mom!” she yelled. Porter popped her mom in the arm and pointed at Charlotte. Charlotte nodded and wiggled her mallet again at Rafael. “¡Chaqueta!” She then winked and turned her pony towards the field and cantered away. Rafael sat wide-eyed.

Her mom leaned in, baffled. “What did she say?”

Rafael spoke up. “Jacket. My jacket?”

“Oh for god’s sake,” her mother rolled her eyes and then chuckled. Her mom leaned in very close on the table. “When sitting, it is customary for men to undo their jacket button and then re-button when you stand up. This is informal so keep it unbuttoned.” Rafael blushed red and quickly undid the two buttons on his blazer. And he felt so relieved! He could breathe.

Shortly after their iced tea arrive, the match was back in full swing. Literally. It wasn’t long before Charlotte had possession of the ball. She galloped with it down the field before letting her teammate with the number 1 on her back overtake her. Charlotte bumped with an opposing member coming up close and kept her off the line. The opposing team member trying to ride off number 1 didn’t stand a chance. Number 1 scooped the ball with an offside swing and the ball flew between the goal posts. The flagman’s hands shot into the air. Porter’s cheers could be heard over all. The team quickly regrouped in the middle, clinking mallets together, preparing for the ball to be thrown back in.

With the threat of an impending storm in the area, halftime was cut short. The girls switched ponies again and were off for the third of the four chukkers. Rafael, Porter, and Julia were now munching on small BTL sandwiches. He felt bad that he was sitting here enjoying a meal while Charlotte was playing her heart out. But he didn’t want to rude either.

“So, Raf, what's the deal with you and my sister?” Porter really didn't mess around did she? Almost spitting out his mouthful, he was hoping for Julia to rescue him but she was preoccupied with the game and not paying attention.

“Well, there's no deal that I know of.”

Porter was not amused.

“I hear you helped her get an A in some class. Oh! And is it true that she's kicking your ass in mock right now?”

“Now that is definitely not true.”

“Aha! I see what gets you all worked up now!”

“I'm not worked up!”

“Are ya’ sure cause…”

Julia shot up like a spring, racing forward. Rafael and Porter turned towards the field and then the world turned to slow motion. The coach running forward to grab the loose ponies. They were on the ground. His legs picked him up, his napkin fell to the ground, his hand pushing off the table knocked over his drink. He beat Julia in speed, ignoring signals to get off the field. Her name poured from his lips uncontrollably. He mentally begged her to get up. By the time he'd made it to the field she was pulling herself up from lying on the ground.

The coach told her to stay down.

“I'm fine. Where's Sergeant?”

“Charlotte, stay down,” Rafael repeated, kneeling next to her.

“Raf…what? How did you get here?” She started sitting up.

“What happened?” He looked her body over to see if there were any signs of injuries.

“Stop babying me, I'm fine. Get me back on.”

Her coach brought Sergeant back over. “Ready?”

Rafael didn't like the idea of her getting back on so soon but he wouldn't argue with the coach. He put his arm and hand out and helped her to her feet. She took a step and collapsed into him.

Her coach shook his head, “You're done.”

“No!” She shouted back at him. “Give me a leg up.”

Quietly Rafael protested, “Please, Char…”

She was angry. “I said give me a leg up!” She pushed herself off of him and grabbed the reins and mallet from her coach. Although she can usually mount from the ground, she got a leg up from him and adjusted herself. He had never seen her angry like this before. He gave her room, slowly walking backwards towards the seats. She ignored him. It wasn't like her. But he shook it off, seeing that she and the other player were okay, and he returned with Julia to the table.

The rest of the game didn't pan out the way they had expected. A team that they should have easily been able to beat ended up taking them 8-5 and riding in, Charlotte’s face showed her disappointment.

“Rafael, I'm going to get her stuff together,” Julia said, “Would you mind helping her off and seeing if she's okay? She'll probably be more honest with you than with me.”

Rafael nodded and jogged over to where they were bringing the riders in. As he approached his heart fell. She was crying. Her face was hardened and angry but there were tears there. Suddenly he was panicked. His worst fear was to see her in pain and it was right in front of him. The other riders dismounted but she stayed on as he approached.

“Char, what-?”

“I’m losing feeling in my foot.”

His breath caught in his lungs. He watched as she took a deep breath and gritted her teeth before swinging her leg over and landing on the ground. Rafael watched in slow motion as she tried to prevent her bad foot from striking the ground but it landed hard and she cried out in pain. Simultaneously her hand shot back to reach him and he moved forward to grab her. She turned her body into his and he held her up by the elbows as she lifted her foot off the ground. He was horrified at the pain in her face.

“I think it's broken,” she said through tears, while still trying to pull herself together. Porter had joined them and Julia followed closely behind.

Rafael could tell she didn’t want to make a scene as she kept looking over at her coach to see if he was watching. Speaking low, he beckoned Julia over. “It’s her foot. We should go to the ER.”

“No,” Charlotte said through labored breathing, “Can we just go home?”

Julia interrupted. “Char you’re going. I’ll take you. Porter and Rafael can meet us there.” Porter flashed her car keys.

“Get me to the car,” she demanded which made Rafael smile at her gumption. She slung her arm around his neck. Her teammates realized something was wrong and started gathering as they made their way to the parking lot. She quickly pulled herself together like a lawyer whose witness just went rogue and said that her ankle did this all the time and she just needed to ice it for a while. And like a good closing argument, they bought her story and let her go. But as soon as they walked away and Rafael and her hobbled through the lot he felt her left hand tighten around his left shoulder and his body responded by tightening his right arm that was wrapped around her. The pain returned to her face and he found himself craving to take it away from her. As she took a step and winced his mind flashed back to the Bronx. Alex and he had Eddie wrapped around them as he still shouted back to the gang in Spanish. Alex was laughing at him even though he knew Eddie’s mom was going to kill all of them for fighting again. Rafael’s bloody lip wasn’t anything new since he got his mouth running again. Eddie was bleeding from more places and couldn’t quite walk straight but he’d let the guy have it. And yet here he was, Rafael Barba from the Bronx, a Cuban who took worse beatings from his father than Eddie did from a group of kids, who had to work extra hard to speak good English and was not only the first in his family to go to college but to law school, to Harvard, and he was walking across the manicured grass of a polo field at a country club built by the people he swore to his mom he would hate. Without thinking his left hand reached up and turned his fingers into hers, locking his arm in place so she felt more secure around him.

Her expression was making him feel sick. “I really hope that horse doesn’t get any carrots.”

She wanted to laugh. He felt her muscles momentarily relax against him. “It was my fault,” she said instead.

“Well then you’re not getting any carrots either.”

He felt her relax again and ever so gently she squeezed her fingers in his.


	4. Chapter 4

Charlotte let her crutches fall to the ground when she sat down across from Rafael at their usual table in the library. “Fuck these.”

She refused him helping her as she plopped down and put her foot up on another chair, laying back in hers. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“You’re still going to go to practice tomorrow aren’t you?”

“Hell yeah.”

“And what do you expect to do?”

She shrugged, hiding a smile that didn’t want to admit he was right. “I’m gonna play my heart out!”

He raised an eyebrow.

“From a white wicker chair.”

He laughed with her. “That’s what I thought.” Resting his elbows on the table next to his mock case notes he sighed, running a hand through his hair. She sat forward.

Her face fell. “What?”

He recognized his feelings showing and brightened up. She was quicker than that.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t act like I can’t tell something isn’t bothering you.”

He indicated his notepad. “I’m just stressed about this-”

“No, no,” she smacked the table. “I don’t wanna hear some shit about you being stressed for mock. Although your cross sucked yesterday.” He didn’t smirk at her which was alarming. “Rafael.”

“I’m going home.” Silence followed as he ran both hands through his dark hair. His green eyes were murkier than usual.

“Home?”

“Home.”

“Well, that _is_ what people usually do for the summer.”

“I wanted to stay here for the week before my internship starts but my father wants me home to help around the house and work.”

Charlotte nodded gently. “When are you leaving?”

He sighed again, sitting back, rubbing his arms. “End of the week.”

“How are you getting there?”

“Couple trains, some walking, a bus.”

“How long does that take you?”

He took a deep breath in. She could feel his anxiety. “About six hours.”

“Sounds like the perfect way to start a summer.”

He snorted softly. “Yeah.”

A smile crossed her face. “I’ll take you.”

This time he laughed out loud. “Gonna lend me a pony? I think that might take longer than six hours.”

“Our ponies can hit thirty miles per hour.” She was glad she got him smiling again.

“I’ll bet they can.”

“I’m serious, Raf. I’ll take you.”

His brow furrowed. “I don’t-”

She leaned in. “I want to. The trip is cut in half if we drive. And I never do the speed limit anyway.”

He wanted to object but his mind made him pause at the thought of spending more time with her. Quickly, though, his thoughts remembered why he should say no.

“I’m not ready for you to meet my family. _I’m_ not even ready to meet my family.”

“Can’t be as bad as Porter.”

“You have no idea.”

“Please?”

“No!”

 

Charlotte pulled up just as Rafael was kissing his Aunt goodbye.

“¡Hola Charlotte!”

She tipped her sunglasses down from the driver’s side. “Hola, Señora Rodriguez.”

“¡Que pasan bien!Llámame cuando llegas!”

“Sí, te lo prometo.”

Rafael threw his single travel bag plus his school bag in the backseat and hurried into the front. He sunk down in the seat while Charlotte waved goodbye to Mrs. Rodriguez.

He buried his face in his hands. Charlotte was glad she could still drive with her right foot and she could leave her left alone. She brought both crutches but resolved to try and only use one. Looking over at him, her mind moved from her foot to the man slunk down next to her. “What?”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“Why?”

He unpacked himself. “You’re going to meet my family.”

She beamed. “I know. This is going to be fascinating!”

“Oh now I’m your experiment?”

She clicked her tongue. “Of course not! You met mine! It’s only fair.”

“Well,” he corrected, “I met your mother and sister.”

Her face turned to stone. “Yep, that’s who you need to know.”

He looked over at her, shifting in his seat as her Mercedes turned towards the highway. “I feel the same way.”

Silence lapsed. She sighed finally, checking her rearview mirror as she merged knowing that they would be on this road for at least two hours. “What do I need to know?”

He kept his gaze forward. “About what?”

“ _Home_ ,” she said simply.

“Well I sure didn’t grow up like you,” he snapped. She could have retorted but she didn’t take it personally. He _was_ right. But this is what she liked about him. He _didn’t_ grow up like her. He was a real person. She didn’t move or say anything, letting him know to continue. “Jerome Avenue isn’t like South Hamilton.” He looked out the window, resting his arm on the door-rest. “Not even close,” he whispered. She had a lot of questions but she stayed silent. She would let him tell her what he wanted to. She knew pushing him wouldn’t get her anywhere even though the urge to badger her witness was kicking in. She knew being in contempt of court would be worse.

“My friends don’t even want to talk to me. I’m a fraud now. I’m one of the _gringitos_. And now…” he indicated to her, “it’s going to be even worse.” Again she could have taken his gesture personally but she brushed it off and stayed silent. “Alex at least got into Fordham. _He_ was the one. He was the brains. I remember getting home that day. I had to get the mail before my father got home from work since I had sent away for an application to Harvard. I don’t even know why. I filled it out and wrote my essay in a single night in my room. Well, I tried to anyway. But my father was mad when he got home. Which wasn’t necessarily anything new.” He talked slowly, choosing his words carefully. She would have given anything to be able to see what was going through his head, what he was remembering behind his eyes. “I knew to stay in my room. But when I heard her try to muffle a scream, I got up from my desk.” He was silent again. Charlotte made sure not to make a single sound. He took in a deep, dark breath and waited for a moment. His eyes weren’t present even though he was looking through the front window. They weren’t seeing the scenery. “My black eye didn’t last long. In fact it gave me some inspiration to finish my essay. I wanted to show him. ¿Me entendiste? I wanted him to see me differently.” Another pause. “I wasn’t supposed to be Alex. Alex was the one going to law school. He was going to be the man of the people because people saw him that way. It was…the way it works there. Your future was determined for you. I was supposed to take over my dad’s job. But then I came home to a package with my acceptance letter and scholarship. And before I showed either of my parents I signed it and sent it back.” He looked down and breathed a laugh. “That black eye lasted a little longer.” Charlotte wanted to interject here but he went to continue.

“Right before I left, my mother told me I was supposed to stick with Alex; said he’d be the mayor of New York someday and I was supposed to stay here. I was going against the family.” He snorted. “Maybe she was right.”

“No,” she couldn’t stop herself. “No, she was not right.”

“My family has to deal with…”

“I don’t…” she closed her mouth, normally thinking that this was where she should stop talking. But Rafael was different and she trusted her mouth with him. “I don’t really care what they have to deal with. This is your life. They’ve made their choices. You’ve made yours. This, _this_ , is where you’re supposed to be.”

She felt like crying and he felt like punching something. The purr of the engine was between them and hours to go. But this moment seemed important enough to let time wait.

Until Rafael broke out in laughter.

And more laughter.

“Really?” She looked over at him in between watching the highway. “ _REALLY?_ ”

“Did you get that out of a Hallmark card?”

For a moment she wanted to scream but his laughter was contagious. “Go fuck yourself, Barba.”

 

Jerome Avenue was a longer street than Rafael remembered. As he approached his house his heart pounded. He’d been home for Christmas but not since then. A couple phone calls with his mother. Living with his aunt gave him info from home but he didn’t want to be here at all. When he’d gotten away for undergraduate school his life completely changed when he had gotten to live away from home. He became independent, he got to draw his own boundaries, he didn’t have to compete with his father, but he did still feel guilty that he wasn’t a buffer there between his father and his mother. He didn’t want to admit that he was glad Charlotte was here, but he was. He wanted her to understand even if it meant she would judge him for where he came from.

Parking along the street, Rafael got out first to grab Charlotte’s crutches from the backseat. Instead of waiting, she got out too and hopped back to the back door.

“Stop being so stubborn!” Rafael scolded. He was on edge being outside his house. He knew his father wasn't home yet but that he would be. He quickly pulled her crutches out before she could get them herself and walked around to her side, handing them to her. “Here, and _use_ them! I don't want to see you hopping around without them.” Charlotte smiled, placing them under her arms.

“Yes, sir,” she said with a salute. She knew his nervousness but wasn't going to let him off the hook. He had approved her outfit which was a pair of jeans, tennis shoes, and a plain black shirt. Her makeup was minimal and her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. For having to dress him before to fit in where she was used to, he needed to do the same thing to fit in as much as she could in his neighborhood. Plus the crutches made her more vulnerable and less likely to be messed with. Although he was planning to spend all their time is his house and not going out anywhere.

His mother and grandmother appeared on the porch as they crossed the street.

“Rafi!” His grandmother called, holding out her arms for him.

He smiled brightly, giving her a big hug and kiss on the cheek.

“¿Es usted un juez todavía?”

Rafael chuckled. “No, abuelita, I am not a judge yet.”

Rafael’s mom helped Charlotte up the porch steps. “You must be Charlotte,” she said with a sad smile, giving her a hug also. “We are glad you're here. Are you keeping him in line up at that school?”

“Actually,” Charlotte said, getting an engulfing hug and kiss from Rafael’s grandmother, “he doesn't need any help. He's doing wonderfully on his own.”

“Rafael, ¿esatán ustedes dos van a casar?” His grandmother asked him, appearing to be discreet but letting everyone hear.

Rafael rubbed his forehead. “No, no, abuelita, no me voy a casar.”

Abuelita also didn't know Charlotte had a basic Spanish understanding. She pretending not to know that his grandmother had asked if he was getting married but she couldn't help blushing anyway.

“Let's go inside,” his mother offered, holding the door for Charlotte. The house smelled incredible and like home cooking. Charlotte began to comment on the smell when there were loud voices from the small living room to her left.

“RAFI!!!”

Rafael’s face lit up as two guys held their arms open to welcome him home. For a moment she thought about Rafael not mentioning any brothers.

“Alex! Eddie! Dios mío! How are you?”

“Us? We are fine!” Eddie said, patting Rafael on the back as he embraced him. “How is it up there in Cambridge?”

Eddie cut in. “We expected you to come back in some gringitos suit.”

“Yeah and a barber hair cut!”

“Or a Harvard jacket!”

Rafael felt a twinge in his stomach but he ignored it. “No, no, amigos, I'm still the same person. This,” he turned around to the three women in the entryway, “is Charlotte Huntingdon. She’s in my class.” He turned to Alex who he knew was in law school, “And she’s currently winning over our mock jury. But I’ve got a couple tricks up my sleeve.” The two men silently shook Charlotte's hand, saying nothing to her.

“Rafi, you have to come see my apartment near Fordham!”

Eddie jumped in, “Yeah and wait until you see Yelena. She has,” he paused, “Uh, she's grown up.” He added a wink.

Rafael’s heart skipped a beat but he kept his composure. “Guys, guys I appreciate it but Charlotte was invited for dinner and it's hard for her to go too far.”

Alex’s face fell as he looked behind Rafael at her. “How did you hurt yourself?” He asked as if she was in an interrogation.

“Polo,” she answered shortly.

Eddie elbowed Alex. “Polo? Los caballos!”

“Sí,” Charlotte said smugly, revealing her understanding of Spanish which caused Alex and Eddie’s faces to drop, “Son llamados ponis de polo, en realidad.”

Silence and staring.

“Well,” Charlotte continued, placing a hand on Rafael’s shoulder before taking back up her crutch, “I'm going to go see if your mom needs any help in the kitchen.” She headed back through the narrow hallway into a little kitchen with a window that faced a small, fenced in backyard. She could hear the three from the other room talking in low Spanish. She placed her crutches up against the doorframe and limped the couple feet to the counter.

“How can I help?” She asked, washing her hands at the sink.

“I take it you're not very familiar with traditional Cuban food,” Mrs. Barba said with a smile.

Charlotte put her hands on her hips. “Not so much.”

“Well this is Ropa Vieja which is one of Rafi’s favorites. The rice,” she pointed to the stovetop, “needs to be the perfect consistently. Mí madre is an expert at timing rice but it would be helpful if you could just keep slowly stirring it so it doesn't stick to the sides.”

“How do I know when it's done?”

“Abuelita will tell you.” His mother turned to her mother and translated. Abuelita agreed and handed her a wooden stirring spoon.

“So Charlotte, Rafi has mentioned you quite a few times. He says you'll make quite the lawyer some day.”

“Well that's sweet of him. He will too, I'm sure of it.”

While his mom set the table in the small dining room, Charlotte stirred and Abuelita checked on the rice’s progress periodically.

“Mrs. Barba, did you want help setting the table?”

“Please dear, call me Lucia. And no, I don't want you walking around on that ankle of yours. I hear it was from a polo accident. I don't know how you ride around on those things.” She shook her head like an anxious mother, probably imaging how scary it would be for her to watch Rafael getting hurt when he was younger.

“That's part of the rush though!”

“Well,” Lucia walked back into the kitchen, checking her watch anxiously and then looking at the front door, “I would rather you stay on the ground.” Gently she touched her hand to Charlotte's shoulder as she said this. It was incredibly endearing.

Abuelita leaned over and tapped Charlotte on the hand. “Eso se acabó.” Charlotte stopped stirring and the three women formed a process where Charlotte would hold a plate, Abuelita would add the rice and beans and then Lucia added the shredded flank and sliced onion. Charlotte then placed each plate in front of a place setting. Lucia set the water in front of each plate and she called Rafael, Alex, and Eddie in from the living room. They arrived speaking Spanish in an animated fashion. Rafael's face was quite blushed.

Lucia indicated for Charlotte to sit and asked Rafael to bring her crutches to sit against the wall behind her seat in case she needed to get up.

Lucia looked at her watch again as she took off her apron to hang on the handle to the refrigerator. Her pair of simple jeans and an off-white flowing top was plain but looked nice on her. She ran her fingers through her short, dark hair and Charlotte smiled, now understanding where Rafael got the habit from.

Suddenly the front door swung open and Lucia rushed into the entryway where she heard talking. Looking over to Rafael, she watched his hands begin to ball up and he quickly brought them under the table, taking a deep breath. His green eyes turned blacker.

Lucia entered the small dining room with a man in workers’ clothes following. He looked like a more tired, hardened Rafael. His tuff of dark hair matched as well as his build and green eyes.

“Please don't stand,” he indicated to her, “I know about your ankle,” he said sharply. Reaching across the table he shook her hand firmly.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Barba.”

Rafael Sr. turned to his son and shook his hand while still addressing Charlotte. “Is that your Mercedes parked up the street young lady?”

“Yes, sir, it is. I'm sorry, am I not allowed to park there?”

Rafael jumped to answer but his father caught him. “I'm sure Rafael enjoyed riding in it, didn't you son?”

“It's a smooth ride,” Rafael said trying to act nonchalant. The tension in the room couldn’t even be cut with a knife. Mr. Barba took his seat at the head of the table and asked the family to bow their heads for grace. Alex and Eddie complied and hadn't said a word.

“Where's my beer?” Mr. Barba asked, beginning to dig into his dinner. Lucia rose silently to go to the fridge for his drink. “Charlotte,” he asked, talking with his mouth quite full, already with an accent, “looks like you're helping my son fit in up there at that school of his.” He looked up from his plate, reaching for the beer Mrs. Barba put down as she returned to her meal, “I hope he doesn't forget where he came from.”

Charlotte suddenly felt incredibly protective of Rafael who she knew was still balling up his fists even with a fork in his hand. She wasn't afraid of this man. He didn't scare her. She'd seen cowards before and he was no different.

“He would never forget,” she retorted, “talks about Jerome Avenue all the time. Actually,” she gestured to Alex and Eddie, “I hear about you two most of all.” She watched their eyes grow wide. “Alex, I hear back in the day you were the heart behind the operation. And Eddie, apparently you were the muscle. And of course, Rafael couldn’t keep his big mouth shut.” The guys cracked smiles.

Mr. Barba coughed loudly and interrupted. “That was a long time ago. Boys were always fucking something up.”

“Rafael!” Lucia scolded under her breath, “por favor.”

“No it's okay,” Rafael said from Charlotte's left. She could see him keeping his anger down and finding his prosecutor façade. “He's right. The three of us were always in trouble.” He looked right at Charlotte. “But that's how you make good friends around here, ¿verdad?” The two guys smiled and nodded, still digging into dinner.

“Is that why you left all of us for that school?” Mr. Barba knew what he was doing. She wanted to jump in and protect him, but she couldn't. It wasn't her place. The judge would overrule her objection so she didn't try it. Placing some more rice in her mouth, she silently prayed Rafael would keep his cool.

He breathed a laugh. _Not good,_ she thought. But then she watched him catch himself.

“Papí let's not discuss this with guests and Abuelita at the table.”

“Why? I think they all have a right to know.” There was a piece of meat sitting on Mr. Barba’s chin and it gave Charlotte another reason to hate him. It was distracting and she used it to keep her mouth shut and facial expressions neutral.

“Rafael, please!” Lucia tried again.

Rafael Jr. was having none of this. His jaw set. “Papí it was my decision.”

“Abandoning your family was your decision? Leaving your mother?”

“I didn't leave anyone. I'm here, aren't I?” The tension became a fog.

“Seems like you run with a different crowd these days,” Mr. Barba suggested, nodding his head in Charlotte's direction.

Rafael slammed down his silverware and got up. He paused for a moment, fists on the table, his mother said his name. He closed his eyes, flared his nostrils, turned and walked out the front door. Charlotte rose to get up but Lucia motioned for her to stay seated and got up instead.

The silence inside was only interrupted by Mr. Barba’s chewing.

Returning to taking small bites, Charlotte turned to Alex who was diagonal from her. “Alex I hear you are doing very well at Fordham. How do you like it?”

Rafael Sr. was quick to cut in. “That's enough,” he said to her softly.

Something in Charlotte flared. “I'm sorry?” she questioned.

Mr. Barba looked right at her. “That's enough talking.” He was quiet and calm but deliberate. His eyes were blacker as well, the deep green having burnt out long ago.

“I was only-”

“This is my house. This is my food and my table. And while you're sitting at it and eating from it you follow my rules.” The man continued with his meal.

A sick smile spread across Charlotte's face. It was so much weakness, she thought. Yes, she was angry with him. But she knew under that was pain from a father who had probably said the same thing to him at some point. There was an in between feeling of wanting to punch him in the throat and putting a hand on his shoulder for reassurance. She did neither.

Rafael and his mother came back in after a couple minutes of silence. Mr. Barba asked for seconds and Lucia refilled his plate from the rest in the kitchen.

Mr. Barba continued as if nothing had happened once his plate was put back in front of him. “How long you staying, Rafael?”

Glancing at him, the look on Rafael’s face terrified Charlotte. She stopped chewing and couldn't take her eyes off him. She expected to see anger, hatred, frustration, determination, but instead she saw worse; she saw nothing. He was expressionless. Done. Dead.

Looking up at his father, his eyes were grey and lifeless. “I have to be back in Cambridge for my internship by the end of the week.”

Mr. Barba didn't appear concerned. Instead he looked pleased. As if seeing his son defeated was his idea of success. “Getting a ride in a Mercedes back up?”

Rafael’s eyes remained lifeless. “No, couple trains, couple buses.”

Mr. Barba simply nodded.

Now Charlotte was fuming. Her jaw set, making clicking sounds as she chewed because of the tightened muscles. The rest of dinner was silent however. Lucia made coffee and brought it to Charlotte so she wouldn't have to get up. Mr. Barba had gotten up, gotten another beer, and headed down into the basement. Rafael talked with Alex and Eddie before they left. Charlotte felt the room brighten without Mr. Barba in it even though it was dark outside.

“Mrs. Barba thank you so much for dinner. It was amazing. I'd love to come back if that would be okay with you.”

Without Mr. Barba in the room Lucia’s face was lighter but visibly tired. “I would love that, dear. I'm sorry if things were a little-”

“Please,” Charlotte waved her off, “I had a lovely time meeting you.”

She hugged and kissed Abuelita before crutching her way out the front door that Rafael held open for her.

He was reserved but firm. His face was dark but his body loosened while he stood there with her.

“Charlotte-”

“Don't,” she stopped him, as he put away her crutches in the back seat and helped her into the driver’s side. “Really. I had a great dinner, I got to meet your mom and grandmother, your friends, and I got to spend time with you. That's all that matters.”

He was at a loss for a moment. He sighed, looking back up at his house. He seemed to be remembering something as his gaze grew far and distant.

“I'm not him,” he said darkly, his gaze unmoving. “I'll never be him.”

Charlotte laid her hand over his as it rested on the downed driver’s side window. “You are not him.”

He didn't move. The moment continued as she could see the green in his eyes glow and shine as they slowly filled with water. But then he blinked a couple times and pulled himself back. “You'll let me know when you get home?”

She patted his hand, starting the car. “Yes, I'll call you.”

He paused, reaching his hand into the driver’s side window he frowned and his brow furrowed before he cupped her cheek, running his thumb gently over her lips. Reflexively she closed her eyes, feeling his skin against hers. Then he was gone. When she opened her eyes he was walking back across the street with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. She set her head back against the headrest. Her breath caught in her throat and tears rolled down her cheeks as she pulled away, a gentle glow coming from an upstairs bedroom of the small house.


	5. Chapter 5

There are no such things as summers in law school. Luckily Rafael had been accepted to an internship close enough to school that he could stay with his Aunt and didn’t have to stay at home. His mother was grateful that he was getting away also but he still wanted to visit when he could. He had his own cubicle and spending less time with his Aunt and his cousins and the random people she let in off the street meant he could spend more time at the office getting work done. After 8 most of the office had gone home so he would get a chance to call Charlotte by that time. Since her internship was at a branch of her family’s firm, she wouldn’t really need to spend extra time there at night. So she was answering his calls from a comfortable couch with her feet up, painting her nails while he stole phone calls in a cubicle.

“I dare you to make this call from your boss’ office,” she’d tempt.

“Yeah, okay, let me get right on that.”

“Are those sirens in the background?”

“I barely notice anymore. But it’s probably something I’m going to have to deal with in the morning.”

“What time do you usually get in in the morning?”

“Usually around seven depending on if something suddenly comes up. Why?”

“I was just wondering.”

The next morning at 7:10, one of the partners called him into his office to let him know that he understood the conditions of his taking time off and that it was approved. He asked him to stop by again at the end of the day to get work to do while he was gone but that he would see him in a week. Charlotte suddenly popped into his head and he cursed her name under his breath. Walking slowly out of the partner’s office, he stomped to his cubicle and pounded in her office number.

“¿Qué hiciste?!”

She laughed on the other end. “You need a vacation.”

“Yeah but how did you…?!”

“Does it really matter?”

He sighed, putting his head back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. He could hear her smiling on the other end, chewing on a pen. He brought his arm behind his head. “Do I want to know what the plan is?”

“You’re going to pack and there will be a car to pick you up tomorrow morning.”

“Oh come on. A car? Can’t I just take a bus?”

She laughed again. “No, because I’m not telling you where you’re going.”

“I’m not flying anywhere am I?”

“Hey! What do you think I just spend my time thinking about ways I can spend money on you?”

He fell forward, horrified that she might think that. “No, no! That’s not what I meant! I would never-”

But she was already laughing. “Rafael, Rafael, I was kidding. Actually I _do_ do that. I will see you tomorrow.”

 

Four and a half hours later, Rafael was awoken by the driver looking in on him from the open door to the backseat.

“Mr. Barba, we’re here sir. I’ve brought your bags inside already. You’re instructed to change for lunch.”

“Mike?” Rafael sat up not knowing how long he had been out since he hadn’t known how long the drive would take. “Where are we?”

“Welcome to Bridgehampton, sir.”

Rafael gave him a doubtful look, sitting up from the backseat. “Well where the hell is…?” But he didn’t finish his sentence before he looked up and outside at the house he was parked in the driveway of. The house was a mansion to him. He stepped onto the pebbled driveway. Seagulls flew overhead of the house which was covered in dark but faded brown shingles, a black roof, and crisp white trim. The lawn was manicured and the plants were being trimmed and shaped as Mike closed the door behind him. The porch that wrapped around it was low with light brown wicker seats and ottomans and colored pillows.

“Mr. Barba I'll show you to your room.”

“Mike,” he said in a stupor as he followed him up the front path. “Where the hell are we?”

“Bridgehampton.”

“Wait, as in the Hamptons. Like _THE_ Hamptons?”

“The very same sir.”

“Holy shit,” he whispered to himself and followed Mike inside. The house opened into an air conditioned entryway with a drop down light overhead. The marble floors shone as he padded gently behind Mike who headed for the staircase which was tucked off to the right. The carpet was soft underfoot and through an archway he could make out a cherry wood kitchen with an island bigger than his living room at home. The house smelled of sandalwood vanilla as he reached the second floor. Pictures of polo lined the walls but none of them had Charlotte in them. They were all men. Some photos were black and white and progressively getting newer.

“Mike?”

“Yessir,” Mike turned around noticing Rafael had stopped.

“Who are these pictures of?”

“I'd rather let Miss Charlotte explain them but I'll tell you that her father is quite the polo player.” With that Mike continued down the hallway of white doors and tan walls. He entered a room about three doors down. It was a light blue with white trim and an ivory carpet that looked as though it had never been walked on. The double bed had more pillows than anyone could use and some had ropes and sailor’s knots tied on them. The bedspread was a light coral and white, crisp. On the desk there was a beautiful model of a man-of-war from the late 1700’s with the name _HMS Surprise_ inscribed on the front. The armoire looked like an antique that had once been a bright white but had seen many years of wear. At the end of the bed was a trunk that looked like it weighed a hundred pounds. But what was more interesting was what was on the trunk.

“Mr. Barba, I...” Mike indicated the clothes sitting on the trunk, but Rafael made a running jump onto the bed. He sunk in like a cloud as the down comforter wrapped him it its warmth. There was a ceiling fan on a mild setting going around. He could have fallen asleep again but Mike interrupted.

“Mr. Barba, this is for you.” Mike handed him a note.

_Welcome to Bridgehampton! I hope Mike didn't tell you all my secrets. Go ahead and get changed. Mike is going to help and don't argue! Then he’ll bring you to lunch. I can't wait to see you!_

_Char_

_Ps. These clothes should fit better. They're for you ;)_

His heart sunk. For me? How could…?

“How are you helping me exactly? And seriously, it's Rafael.”

“Well, look, I'll be honest with you. Being in Bridgehampton, you have to act the part. Charlotte knew these weren't the kind of clothes you're used to, so I'm going to show you how they go.”

Rafael stared at him in disbelief. “Is this a joke?”

Mike sighed. “Just trust me. Or, rather, trust her judgment.”

Rafael signed back. “This is weird.”

“I agree,” Mike chucked. “Get undressed.”

“What the hell,” Rafael gave in and started stripping. “I'm already in the fucking Hamptons. If you can't beat ‘em…” Mike first handed him a sleeveless white undershirt which he slipped over his head and then he was handed a white and blue block-patterned button up with a sharp collar and pressed sleeves. While he buttoned the front, Mike buttoned his mitered cuffs. He then stepped into a pair of khakis that buttoned perfectly around his waist. Actually, a little _TOO_ perfectly. Mike made sure his shirt was tucked in neatly and lifted Rafael’s arms out to the side so that it just pulled enough but was still comfortable and wouldn’t move that much. Next was a dark, almost brown belt. The leather wasn’t cracked at all like last time. In fact, he could smell the newness of it. It fit perfectly into the fourth hole and Mike moved it so the simple silver buckle was right in the front and tucked the extra into the belt loop. Mike brought over a beautiful blue blazer with a fine stitch detailing around the edges of the lapels. While Mike held it up for him, he didn’t quite know what to do.

“Both arms at the same time,” Mike instructed and he bent both arms back and Mike slipped the jacket over his shoulders. The phrase “ _like a glove”_ came to mind. In front of him, Mike meticulously made sure a little of his cuff was seen below the end of his jacket sleeves. He had him lift his chin while he adjusted his collar under the lapel weight and pulled his shirt back down into place. He buttoned the top button and it was a better fit than anything Rafael had ever worn in his life.

“Wow, her brother’s clothes didn’t fit this well last time,” Rafael said out loud.

“Well, sir, that’s because they’re not his clothes. They’re yours.”

“Yeah, the letter said that but…”

“No, really. Mrs. Huntingdon sized you up the moment you met her. She had these custom made for you. Just for you.”

Rafael just stared at him. “You’re…No.”

Mike just nodded. “Afraid so.” While Rafael tried to process this, he looked at himself in the mirror above the antique dresser. For a moment, he believed he belonged in that house. For just a moment. Mike helped him slip into a pair of lace-up Oxfords, like the ones last time, but these fit even better and were brand new. This made the laces harder to tie. He smiled that there were no funny socks this time. He suddenly missed them. Mike picked up two handkerchiefs from the trunk, one a matching blue and the other a white with blue squares. Folding them very carefully, Mike tucked them into his breast pocket. Next was a brown leather watch with a black face, silver trim and numbers. On the face was the word _Omega_. This piece didn’t look as new and the leather bent around his wrist easily. There was a hole that seemed to have been worn in but Mike fastened it in a hole bigger.

“Don’t I need cufflinks?”

Mike chucked. “Not in this shirt. That’s for French cuffs, sir.”

“Oh right, of course. Cause everybody knows that.”

Mike went into the adjoining bathroom and came back with a thin comb. He parted Rafael’s hair deep to the left. He put some mouse in his hands and pressed it around on his fingers before gently running it through the larger side of the part. He then combed it through a couple times before letting it set itself. He handed him the same set of Ralph Lauren sunglasses from before.

“Ready to go?” Mike asked with his hands on his hips.

“I don’t know. Don’t I need a purse or a big hat or something?”

“The fancy white gloves are in the car.”

Rafael almost flipped him off but just snickered as they left the room.

Once in the car, Mike began driving through streets lined with mansions. Each had their own manicured grass and acre of property. Bentleys and Mercedes and Porches lined driveways. He wondered where the beach was. Wasn’t that what the Hamptons was all about?

It only took about about ten minutes before the car pulled into the entrance to the Bridgehampton Polo Club.

“Now remember,” Mike started, looking at Rafael in the rearview mirror, “unbutton your jacket when you sit, when you're inside, button only the top one when you stand. Charlotte will instruct you on table manners. She said you'll know what drink to order when asked. You may only order two total. Do not smoke anything even if offered. Men shake with the right hand and left hand on the elbow. Have a firm handshake but don't kill anyone. Look people in the eye. Make jokes. Stick with her and she'll make you fit right in. Keep smiling.”

“Is there going to be a final exam?”

“It's right now.” Mike alighted from the car and opened the passenger door. Before Rafael could get out he pointed to a bouquet of bright sunflowers that he hadn't noticed were next to him. “Those are for Charlotte. Take them with you.” Rafael picked up the bouquet. “You look great, sir. Have a good time. I'll be back for you later.”

Rafael just nodded, concentrating on walking in the new shoes. He could see the polo players on the field where Mike had indicated. He was supposed to look for her. But how was he ever supposed to find her? Was she playing? He wished she had told him more. He slowed as he approached staff of the Club waiting by the field. He saw one of them notice him, light up a smile, and look behind him, putting a hand in the air.

“Mr. Barba,” he said, coming forward to shake his hand. “Follow me.” But before they could go forward, she was there. Her face was bright and her hair was shining. She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and paused when she saw him. Her mouth dropped and she dramatically put her hands on her hips. Rafael’s breath caught in his lungs as she stood there. Her dress was a clean white with a slip underneath and the rest was made of a thick lace pattern. Around her waist was a salmon colored thin belt with a sliver clasp. She had a matching silver polo necklace, bracelets, and small pearl earrings. Despite her matching salmon heels which were clearly still against doctors orders, she walked quickly to him. He knew he was smiling like a school child.

“Well holy shit, Rafael. Look at you!” She put her arms out and gave him a quick hug but he instinctively wrapped his arms tight around her and his nose buried itself in her hair. She smelled like the house, a combination of lavender and vanilla and his heart melted. She went to back away put he pulled her closer. Her body paused but then gently fell into him.

“I missed you,” he said into her ear. He must have been close enough for his breath to blow against her ear because he felt her shutter in his arms.

Her body relaxed against his. “I missed you too.” She pulled her head back and they stood there. Seconds to minutes to hours to days, years maybe. Her eyes were bright and shining at the sight of him, her cheeks were flushed and he pressed his hands into her waist. Her fingers curled around the fabric of his blazer. No one breathed. Her lips parted.

“Are those flowers for me?” Rafael didn't respond. He watched her lips move but didn't register sound.

“Rafael?” She asked again, tilting her head.

“What?” He finally looked into her eyes.

She flushed redder. “The flowers. Are they for me? Or my dad.”

“Flowers? Oh! Yes, um they are for you.” He snapped his hands from her and cleared this throat before handing the flowers to her.

“They're beautiful.”

“Okay, well, seriously they're from Mike.”

She broke out in laughter before gently smacking him in the arm. “Well you're not supposed to tell me that part!” He knew he was blushing. “Come on,” and she turned around and bent her arm so she could interlace her elbow with his. Suddenly he remembered to get his act together. He shook his head and pulled back into himself.

Most of the spectators were watching the game and didn't pay much attention to them walking by but the table they were at was much bigger and there were men dressed in summer suits and…hey! Cufflinks! He recognized Porter and Julia right away. As they approached, the whole table turned to look at them. All the men rose from their seats.

Rafael swallowed hard. He felt like a sheep in a lion’s den. But he remembered that he knew where he came from and was proud of it. He had nothing to prove to these people. In fact, he would probably prosecute one of their spoiled kids in a couple years.

“Raf!” Porter of course, was first. “I approve of the threads.”

One of the men came forward first. “Mr. Barba, I presume.”

“Yes sir,” Rafael firmly grabbed his hand.

“Declan Huntingdon. I'm Charlotte’s uncle.”

“Of course! She's interning for you over the summer, right?”

“That's right.”

“Wow, I'm so sorry.”

Declan thought this was excellent and patted him on the shoulder while the rest of the table appreciated his joke. Charlotte laughed with them and squeezed his arm while smiling at him. Apparently this was a good move. One by one he was introduced to family and friends. There was no way he would remember anyone but regardless he tried. He was asked what he wanted to drink. Immediately he thought water but then he remembered that Mike said he would know what to order.

“Macallan's straight up.” Another squeeze. So far so good, he thought. They sat down. Rafael was in between Uncle Declan and Charlotte. Julia tipped her glasses onto her nose and indicated his clothes. She gave him a small thumbs up.

“Yeah,” he leaned forward pointing his drink at her, “We need to talk about these later.” She smiled brightly and waved her hand at him before pushing her glasses back up. As he sat back and looked toward the polo field with Charlotte on his right, she crossed her right leg over her left and he could feel her leg softly rest against his. His drink caught a little in his throat as he swallowed but he didn’t turn to her. He felt a shot of adrenaline shoot through him and he closed his eyes to take a deep breath. Declan turned around to face him.

“John is playing for the Bridgehampton team. He’s number three,” and he pointed to the man galloping after the ball. Rafael nodded knowing he was pointing out Charlotte’s father. He watched as he dropped the ball and let number 1 come around and take up the ball, dribbling it forward and right in between the posts. The flag went in the air to signify a goal. Cheers went up from the table.

The vanilla and lavender smell returned to him and he felt Charlotte’s chin rest lightly on his right shoulder. His body tensed.

“He’s pretty good. Did you see the pictures in the hall?”

Rafael scrambled to find the right words. “Um, yes, I saw them.” Remembering that Mike had said he wanted Charlotte to tell him about the pictures, he played dumb. “You weren’t in any of them.”

She sighed and her wine kissed breath brushed across his face. “No, dad is a club member. He played for the Harvard team as well so some of them go back to that time. Some are more recent. I have some of myself in my room.”

Rafael couldn’t stop himself. He tilted his head so he was almost touching hers. “In your room, huh?” He felt her smile against his shoulder.

“I like this jacket on you. It goes well with your hair.”

“My hair feels like a rock.”

Her smiled widened. “It looks perfect.”

“So do you,” his words fell out as his heart started pounding harder. She thanked him and drew her head from his shoulder. He suddenly wanted it back. His body was betraying him. Taking a deep breath he forced himself to return to the polo match which was coming to an end. Cheers went up as Mr. Huntingdon’s team scored two more goals to take the match 18-15.

The table stood up and began to file inside for lunch. Rafael was glad because the jacket was making him sweat. Charlotte took his arm back and he got the hint to always ask for it. The flowers he brought had been placed in a vase on their table were transferred to their lunch table.

Seated next to Charlotte, lunch was already prepared and after the palate cleanser came an almond and pecan salad with a chilled vinaigrette. Charlotte took his napkin and unfolded it for him. She reached over and placed it in his lap while noticeably dragging her thumbs across his thighs and legs. He shifted in his seat, tilting his head to her and letting his eyes meet her. Her eyes were dancing but he gave her a look of warning. She suppressed her smile and turned back to her salad.

“Start on the outside and work in,” she indicated for the silverware in which there were way too many pieces. A bottle of Opus One was split between the table and Rafael gently sipped on it. After his scotch he didn’t want to drink too much. The man to Rafael’s right was one of Charlotte’s father’s partners at his firm and although he had gone to Stanford, he asked Rafael about his plans for his career and his current internship.

A moment after the salad plates disappeared and the wait staff would return with the main dish, Charlotte leaned to her right to get the partner’s attention, indicating him to pass her the bread. In the process, she placed her right hand right in between Rafael’s legs, pretending not to notice. He silently gasped and could feel himself respond her to and he knew she could tell. She grabbed the bread basket with both hands and got a piece for herself before passing the basket to Porter to her left. Reflexively, Rafael grabbed her right wrist.

He leaned into her. “I need to talk to you.”

She shrugged. “Okay. Mom,” she leaned down to her next to Porter, “I’m just going to show Rafael where the restroom is.” Her mom nodded and waved her off.

The two stood up from the table, Charlotte indicating Rafael to place his napkin on his chair. He felt so uncomfortable but he remembered to button the top button of his jacket.

They headed towards the restrooms on the upper floor. She went ahead of him up the staircase in the lobby, her slender wrist guiding along the light wood railing. He watched the muscles above her heels move up the stairs, her hips softly swinging as she walked. Her curled hair had a slight bounce against her back which was lined with a small white zipper. He held himself together when she indicated the individual bathrooms. He couldn’t open his mouth to speak so he simply signified for her to go in ahead of him. She paused for a moment but didn’t question him and, checking the hallway, she opened the door and stepped in. He followed in after her, closing the door. His mind suddenly changed. He felt himself switch and in the dim lighting his hand forced the lock closed and he turned to face her, her eyes wide. His green eyes grew dark and a sinister smile crossed her face.

“You seem flustered counselor,” she paced around the small bathroom in front of him. “Is something bothering you?”

He moved forward until her back hit the wall and he put his arms on either side of her, palms pushing into the tile as if he was trying to move the building. “What the fuck are you doing?” It came out angrier than he wanted but he wasn’t really in much control at this point.

She reached up, putting her fingers under the lapels of his jacket, tracing along his chest.

“What the fuck are _you_ doing about it?” Her breath smelled like sweet wine and he knew her lips would taste the same. He hated her pouting and teasing him, putting him off his game. Her fingers traced down to his belt buckle and he became acutely aware of the dangerous smell of her perfume.

Bringing his right hand to the back of her head so not to hurt her, he groaned, pushing his mouth onto hers. She kissed him back, wrapping her arm around his back and pulling him into her. He sucked the wine from her lips as she urged her hands under his jacket which he didn’t break from her mouth to quickly take off and throw on the floor. Quickly he moved his body back to hers which was arching out for him. He found her perfume again and followed it down her neck, kissing her sun kissed skin, feeling her hair wrap around his hand. Kissing her collarbone under the lace of her dress he felt her put her head back and she breathed the word “ _fuck”_ above him.

He shot back up, letting his left hand wrap around her leg and bringing it up, wrapping it around his body. “Watch your mouth,” he seethed before parting hers with his tongue, feeling the vibration of her voice groan into him. His left hand slid up her leg and he felt her shudder under his touch. He’d considered stopping a thousand times but couldn’t bring himself to. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest and when he moved back her body moved forwards into his. A few times she moved to run her fingers through his hair but quickly she remembered where they were and refrained from messing up the styling. He moved his hand closer to her, finding her underwear as an obstruction. His mouth returned to her upper neck and she breathed his name into his ear. His thumb worked under the fabric and as she breathed his name again he quickly flipped his fingers before touching two to her, following her wetness back, and without hesitation pushing them into her. She trembled under him, almost losing her balance. This time she inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. Suddenly her hand fell on his left arm and she pulled his hand away, removing him from her. He drew back from her, alarmed.

She had to find her breath. “Wait,”

“What, what? Did I hurt you? I’m sorry,”

“No,” she smiled, leaning against the wall, “No,” she breathed again. “We have to get back to lunch.”

“Fuck,” he said, almost running his hand through his hair but catching himself. “How long have we been gone?”

“Long enough,” she retorted. The pair cleaned up quickly; Rafael rinsed off his hands and readjusted his clothes while she freshened up, un-smeared her makeup and repositioned her curls.

“You gonna be okay?” She smirked, indicating his response to her.

He blushed. “Just give me a minute. Not the first time.”

“Or the last.”

“That’s,” he tilted his head to her, “That’s not going to help.”

By the time the pair returned to the table, lunch had been served but the Argentinian polo game was on and the table was more interested in that than them returning.

“Where were you?” Julia asked, concern on her face.

“I just showed him the polo exhibit upstairs. Sorry we took a little long.”

Julia eyed her suspiciously but didn’t say anything. Their duck lunch had been held for them and it was promptly delivered in front of them. Rafael wanted to be able to enjoy the food more since it was the best he had ever tasted in his life, but his mind was in the past. He was eating mechanically, his thoughts only on her sitting next to him. His head was still throbbing in his chest and he was trying to manage his body, bringing himself back to earth to remember he was in a new situation.

Still trying to get his wits back after lunch, the group stood and made their way over to the lounge area with the televisions where the match was still going on and there were plenty of comfortable leather couches and armchairs. He couldn’t help looking back at the table and noticing the number of foreign staff that were clearing the table, some who might not even speak English, thinking of his mom when she worked full time as a teacher and waited tables on weekends.

His reverie was interrupted when he heard his name called.

“Mr. Barba!” he heard again. The man walking up to him was still dressed in his polo habit, hand held out to shake his. He was tall and handsome, with a firm jaw and hungry eyes. He’d hate to face him in a courtroom, imaging that a look from him could melt a witness. Although he was smiling, Rafael could see doubt in his expression. His eyes did not match his countenance. Rafael faced it as a challenge, imaging this man _was_ a defense attorney.

“John Huntingdon, nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard great things,” he gripped his hand tightly and gave it three large shakes.

“Are you sure you’re talking to the right person?” Rafael joked.

Mr. Huntingdon only offered a small glimmer of amusement. “Come sit.” Rafael followed him into the lion’s den of couches and chairs among the other men. Charlotte joined the women who had gathered on the large deck outside. And so he was alone, again remembering that he knew where he came from and that he could hold his own without her.

“So, Mr. Barba,” John said as he exhaled while lowering himself into a chair, picking up his Grand Marnier, inhaling its scent before taking a small sip. “I hear you are from New York City.”

Immediately Rafael thought to say “ _Yes, the Upper east Side is quite nice this time of year_.” But he thought of his mom and her working sixty hours a week just to support him and their small home while trying to give him everything he needed despite his father’s…personality. “Yes,” he answered with neutrality, “The west Bronx actually.”

John didn’t expect that answer and neither did the rest of the men sitting around listening. He offered a small nod and maybe it was the wine or the drink earlier or being drunk off of looking down at his left hand which had been inside his daughter’s body not too long ago, remembering how she had shaken under his touch, but Rafael couldn’t help himself. He settled back in his chair, crossing his legs and added, “It’s quite nice this time of year.”

There was only a small chuckle at first but one of the partners realized the meaning of the joke. The smirk on Rafael’s face enlightened them that he was mocking the fact that he was not one of them and he knew it. It let them know he wasn’t pretending to be something he wasn’t, while appreciating being here all the same. The chuckle was contagious and spread through the four in their polo-best and the other three players.

John reached his arm behind him although he hadn’t quite laughed as much and signaled for a waiter. “Get this gentleman a Grand Marnier, neat.”

_Oh great, more alcohol to throw me off_.

John turned back to the group. “So what brought you do Harvard, Mr. Barba? All the way from the Bronx.” Barba could hear the condescension in his voice and he thought of it as another attorney trying to shake his witness during cross. He also remembered that this man was on the board. And that without his scholarship money, there was no law school. He suddenly felt a pang of anger at Charlotte for putting him in this position.

“Well, I wanted to go to the best, sir.”

The partner spoke up. “Which we all know is Yale!” and he clinked glasses with the gentleman next to him.

Rafael’s drink arrived and he smelled it first, it ignited his nose, and then he took a small sip. His eyes wanted to burn from the orange-like smell but he controlled them and let the fiery liquid slip down his throat. It was similar to the scotch but more potent. He could feel it grow warm and glow as it sat in his stomach. Liquid courage restored.

“Well,” he slipped in while still staring at his drink, “I wouldn't normally argue with you on that unless we are talking about polo teams.”

A round of _Ooooohhhhhh_ ’s went up from the group since Rafael remembered seeing in the Harvard Crimson that the men’s polo team was actually slightly dominating Yale’s this year. He sent up a prayer that he had read that for this very moment.

Charlotte’s uncle spoke up. “Mr. Barba, where are you interning this summer?”

After he let another slip slide smoothly down his throat he looked up at him. “Johnson McMaster. I’m enjoying my cubicle very much.”

“Son, why don’t we talk about you working for a real law firm next summer?”

Rafael wanted to agree to the offer right away. But John cut in. “Well, now Declan, you’ll want to interview the boy first.”

“Well we might be able to cut that a little short,” Declan raised his glass and winked at Rafael. Julia and Charlotte walked in from outside and indicated that it was time to head home. John said he was going to stay for a while and Rafael wasn’t really upset to hear he wasn’t leaving with them.


	6. Chapter 6

“RAF!!!!!” Rafael was suddenly shaken awake like a bomb had hit the bed next to him. “Wake up!!” He struggled to get his bearings. He turned his head around and Charlotte was standing on his bed, jumping up and down.

“What the hell happened?” He asked, trying to sit up, running a hand over his face to whisk away the sleepiness.

She pounced down so that she was sitting on her legs next to him. Vanilla and sandalwood reached his nose. Her hair was behind her in a loose bun with sunglasses on her head. A pair of tan shorts and a flowing peach cover-up shirt covered a bathing suit that he couldn't see. The window opposite him showered sunlight into the blue and white room and it landed softly on her as she peered down at him. Reaching forward she put her hand on his head and messed up his hair even more.

“What happened is that it's an absolutely beautiful day outside and we need to get to the beach! We have quite the day planned!” She bounced up and down on the bed.

He smiled and threw his head back down into the pillow. “You go to the beach. I'm going to enjoy this perfect bed a little longer.”

“No way!” She moved forward and pushed him in the side, trying to roll him off.

“Hey!” He grabbed her arms and pulled them away which caused her to collapse onto him.

“No, no, no,” she laughed, her face upturned to his from his chest. As she spoke, her breath filled his nostrils with coffee and something sweet. Her hair already smelled like a day at the beach.

His hands gripped slightly harder on her wrists and he should have just agreed to get to up and left it at that. But he couldn't. Or maybe he could have. But he didn’t want. Her laugh and his euphoria of being here with her in the moment washed over him and he leaned forward, taking her upper lip between his. He felt her body stutter in surprise, but she didn't pull away. Instead she flattened her palms against his bare chest and turned her head slightly before catching his bottom lip inside hers and sucking delicately. He felt her breathing change and her face flush as it touched his. His mind turned off and his hands unclenched from her wrists and found themselves on her waist, gently pulling her up to be poised over him. Charlotte could feel herself wanting him, her tongue finding his, she felt his body change and respond to her. She disconnected from him so that she was sitting on him. Playfully she slapped his chest.

“This isn’t part of the ‘getting up’ process,” she said friskily, putting her hands on her hips and licking her slightly swollen lips.

The darkest smile swept across his face. “Oh, it’s quite a getting up process for me.”

She shook her head, smiling, and looking up at the ceiling fan. “Get up,” she said sharply as she rose off of him.

“Hey,” he complained, quickly turning on to his side from embarrassment.

“Hey as in your swim trunks are in the top drawer as well as a couple new shirts. The shower is awesome, you should try it out.”

He interjected, resting his chin in his hand and his elbow on the pillow. “Are you saying I smell?”

She was quick. “I’m saying I smell better. I’ll meet you in the kitchen in twenty.” She brought her sunglasses down from her head and placed them on her nose even though they were inside. “Don’t be late.” She strolled out of the room like an exaggerated runway model, closing the door behind her. He rolled over onto his back again, staring at the fan, thinking “ _I need that shower more than she knows.”_

 

By the time he made it downstairs to the breakfast nook, it was already raining outside. The table was set for five but the dishes had been cleared away for three of them, one was half missing, and a setting of a beautiful bowl of fresh fruit and yogurt with granola and nuts waited with a cup of coffee and orange juice.

“It's still hot,” he heard from the room to his right. Turning his head from the kitchen there was the great room which was two stories tall with more windows than he could count. All of them were capable of opening to let in the summer air but they were all closed now as rain pelted on them. Charlotte was lounging in a comfortable arm chair with her feet up on an ottoman. She was just staring at the rain, with a cup of coffee in her hands. She had changed into a pair of navy blue Bermuda shorts and a soft white cashmere sweater.

“Is this for me?” he asked, indicating the meal on the table. Charlotte smiled at him and his naïveté.

“Yes, of course!” She brought her feet to the ground and got up, walked over to the kitchen table and sat down across from him.

He tucked in. “I guess our beach plans changed, huh?”

She sighed looking back out into the great room at the rain. “Yeah,” and added a dramatically sad face followed by a mischievous smirk, “but we have other plans.”

“That face scares me.”

“It should. Finish your breakfast and we'll get going.”

“Where?”

“Like I'd tell you.”

 

Charlotte checked her watch as they got out of her car.

“Right on time,” she said happily, coming over to Rafael to link her arm in his.

“What are we doing here?” He asked as two doorman opened the doors for them to the store which Rafael didn't catch the name of.

“Oh you'll see.”

“Miss Huntingdon! Good to see you!” The man striding up to her couldn't have been more flamboyant, but he was dressed well. His energy was contagious. Putting his hands on his hips he turned to Rafael. “So this is what we have to work with?”

Charlotte laughed and joined him with her hand positioning. “Yes, this is Mr. Barba. The appointment said it was the works right?”

“Oh honey, please. I have you covered. Come on upstairs to the custom floor.”

Rafael was completely dumbfounded but had learned it was best to just go along with Charlotte's ideas.

Alighting from the elevator brought the three into a floor filled with all men’s clothing. There were ties and blazers and button ups and sweaters and belts and sunglasses and shoes and multicolored socks and everything else one could imagine to wear. He had to work to keep up with the man and Charlotte as they strolled to the back of the store.

“Right in here.” The man ushered them into a private room that looked like a living room with lots of mirrors. Right in the middle under a group of spotlights was a little platform in front of a group of three mirrors that surrounded it.

“Charlotte,” he turned to her as she put her things down in an empty chair, “what the hell are we doing here?” His expression was worried and confused and she didn't feel comfortable leaving him shocked.

“Daryl would you mind bringing us some iced tea and giving us the room for a minute?” she asked politely, clasping her hands together.

“Of course Miss C, I have to grab Max anyway. Be back in five,” and with that he was gone and they were alone for the moment.

“Look,” she turned back to him. I know this isn't your thing but I want you to humor me for a little bit.” She stood back from him and indicated to one of the walls which had a long silver pole running across it. Hanging from it were about twenty clothing bags all zipped up. “These are all for you.”

He felt hot and angry. “Why are you doing this? I'm not a charity case.”

“You're not! You're right. I don't see it that way.”

“Well it's pretty hard for me to see it any other way. I'm not a doll you can dress up.”

He could tell she was hurt by this but she also expected it. “Again, you're right. You're not and we can leave anytime you want to. But, listen...” Coming up to him as he stood near the small platform, placing her hands on his chest, “you're one of the most important people in the world to me. I have everything I need.”

“What about vet school?”

She smiled sweetly but waved a hand as if to brush it off. “I don't really know how to show people that I care about except this way. You deserve everything in this room. You deserve more than what's in this room.”

“I don't need these things. They don't mean anything to me.”

“But they mean something to me. So look if it bothers you that much we can go. But can you think of it as doing it to make me happy?”

He sighed, not wanting to say yes but, as usual, she made a good argument. Running his hand through his hair he gave in. “What do I have to do?”

She face beamed wickedly. “Daryl!?” she called loudly. Immediately Daryl opened the door.

“Is he in?” Daryl asked poking his head in.

Charlotte clapped her hands. “He's in!”

“Let's go guys!” And Daryl came in followed by another guy holding what looked like a sewing box. He was followed by another guy holding more clothing bags and another guy holding nothing.

Charlotte plopped down in an armchair next to the three mirrors, facing the platform. She was still grinning ear to ear.

“Mr. Barba,” Daryl started, “I’d like to introduce you to Max,” Rafael shook hands with the gentleman with the sewing box, “Max is our master tailor. This is Jim, he is our dress shirt guy. And this is Marcus, our shoe expert. You're in good hands.” Daryl was playing off of Charlotte's excitement. “Mr. Barba, we need to get some quick measurements first.”

Rafael was shown up to the platform. He eyed Charlotte who was obviously enjoying this a little too much. The men took turns with tape measures marking down shoulder widths and leg height, shoe size and waist width. They measured his neck circumference and his chest roundness. Then his arm length and inseam.

“Miss C your mother was really close on these measurements!” Daryl said as he worked his way around Rafael.

“She's pretty good didn't she?” She turned her attention back to Rafael. “How ya doin up there?”

He just shook his head and smiled, taking the question as rhetorical.

Jim stepped forward. “Mr. Barba I’d like to get some dress shirts down. I'll have you remove your polo please.” Rafael narrowed his eyes at Charlotte but she just buried herself deeper in her chair and put her feet up on a coffee table. She would have gone to a concession stand and gotten popcorn and a soda if she could. He lifted the shirt over his head and purposely ignored her face. Bringing over his bags, Jim unzipped a couple and helped Rafael slip his arms through the shirt.

“Go ahead and button that up while I talk. When picking out a dress shirt, Mr. Barba, there are a couple things you want to remember.” Jim stuck too fingers behind his neck and the collar. “You want there to be about a two-finger-gap between your neck and the collar.” He moved to his wrists. “Here there should be enough room that you can move around but not be able to get your arms through the cuffs without unbuttoning them. You want to be able to raise your arms out without the fabric coming far up your forearm but short enough that you don't have more than an inch below your wrist when your arms are hanging. And finally you want, depending on your fit, about one to three inches of fabric at your chest and waist. For your fit, we’re only going for two inches.” Rafael tried to absorb Jim’s information. And here he always thought a shirt was just a shirt. “We're going to start with this white, turned-down collar, with no breast pockets, side pleats, and French cuffs.” Jim took more measurements and explained more as he slipped out of the white one and into another more causal button-up. He was taught to properly roll up his sleeves, adjust his collar and buttons depending on the occasion, and pick cuff links. Different shirts in different colors, patterns, textures like cotton and silk.

Then came Daryl who did suiting. He introduced the Italian, English, and American cut jackets, wools in 100’s, 120’s, and even 200’s, colors, number of buttons, notched, peaked, and shawl lapel width, single and double breasted, the incredible importance of the shoulder width, and ending in vents, pockets, and buttons. Then came the trousers in various lengths, without and without pleats, suspenders in Y-shapes and X-shapes. Then waistcoats with and without lapels, various fabrics and Italian silk-backs, 5 or 6 buttons with the bottom button always unbuttoned. Then the fun stuff: ties and pocket squares and belts and socks and shoes! A new gentleman came in for the ties and pocket squares specially. They were mostly Italian and all made of pure silk in every color and pattern imaginable. Rafael practiced the three-in-hand and half and full Windsor, being told the Full was the best for him. He was taught to match ties to shirts and squares and then belts to shoes. A new person came in with watches and cuff links. Rafael changed outfits hundreds of times, felt more fabrics and saw more colors than he knew existed. There was a final suit that Charlotte had picked out for him that she was proud of, however and just when he needed a nap and study guide Daryl pulled it out of its bag.

“This final suit, Mr. Barba, was tailored and put together for you by Charlotte and my team. We think you'll like it.” Rafael got re-undressed. Undershirt first, he remembered. Daryl narrated as he slipped Rafael into his suit. “This is a Ralph Lauren Purple Label dot dress shirt, your tie and pocket square are both Burberry, your belt is Canali Brogue, your shoes are Giulio Moretti Pebbled Wing Tips, and most importantly,” Daryl stated with a flash in his eye as he slipped Rafael's arms into an exquisite jacket, “your suit is Armani.”

The men stood back and Rafael stared at himself in the three mirrors. Charlotte slowly rose out of her chair. His white dress shirt hugged his chest and he could feel the gentle weight of the golden cuff clinks. His slacks, which felt like his legs were encompassed in clouds, hung snug on his waist. His dark brown belt matched his wing-tipped shoes which were not necessarily comfortable but he could feel the work that went into them and the click of the heel and the hardness of the bottoms which he saw held together by fine nails. His tie was the signature Burberry pattern lightly coming off the tan background and his pocket square was an array of florals. His jacket gave him power and strength and he popped his left hand in his pocket. The image staring back at him at first seemed foreign. The silence in the room was like a doctor waiting to see if a heart transplant took. He finally looked down at Charlotte who had her hands up over her mouth in shock.

“Daryl,” he asked not taking his eyes off of her, “how much does this suit cost?”

Daryl was stunned. He deferred to Charlotte. She frowned.

“Mr. Barba it doesn't-”

He looked right at her. “I want to know.”

Charlotte considered him for a minute before crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows, nodding to Daryl.

Rafael interrupted. “The whole thing. Everything on me.”

“Including the watch and links?”

“Yes,” Rafael said smartly, but with a twinge of pain.

“Uhh, well,” Daryl walked around him for a moment, calculating. Rafael stood with his hand still in his pocket, eyes on Charlotte. She blew up her cheeks in anticipation, giving Rafael a you’re-the-one-who-asked look.

“I'd have to say, including the watch which is three thousand and links which are four hundred, about…seventy-two hundred.”

Charlotte didn't move; instead her expression made a small token of agreement. Rafael closed his eyes.

“Take it off,” he said, beginning to remove his jacket.

“Let's get lunch,” Charlotte interjected.

“Off.” He handed the jacket gingerly to Daryl.

“Why?” She put her hands on her hips.

“I can't-“

“No, a real why.”

He sighed in frustration. “I can’t let you-“

“What? You can't let me spend that type of money of you? Why?”

He was irritated now as he handed back the watch, stepping off the platform. “No, I can't let you. Why? Why because it's not fair.”

“Define fair.”

“Oh, don't play semantics with me.”

“Nothing is fair. Get over it.”

“This is too much.”

She crossed her arms again. “You said you would make me happy.”

“But _this_ is too much.”

“There's a price on happiness?”

He gave back the tie. “You seem to think so.”

“Actually it's the opposite here don't you think?”

“No, I-“

“You're the one who asked the price. I didn't.”

“I wanted to know-“

“No, Rafael, you're afraid. You're afraid to be worth this much to someone.”

“No one is worth a million dollar suit.”

“You're worth it to me.”

“I don't need this.”

There were small tears in her eyes. “Please.”

There was a sudden change. The air changed. She changed. He stopped.

She looked tired and drained; as if she had given everything she could in the last couple moments. Or maybe she had held it together for just long enough. He said nothing.

She tried again, her voice quivering slightly, now softer. “Please let me do this.”

He turned to face her. “I don't understand-“

She closed her eyes, not wanting to hear his question. “I don't know any other way.”

Silence. Rafael hadn't noticed the room empty as he turned to face her. “Any other way for what?”

She moved uncomfortably. “To…tell you how I feel. I don't… I don't do emotions. I don't do talking. This is all I know.”

He took a deep breath. “What are you trying to tell me?”

She looked away from him. “I can't tell you. That's why I'm showing you. This is all I know, Rafael. This is all I have.”

He nodded in understanding although he was still unsure. “Well we should get some lunch. On me!”

After a moment she broke a smile and sniffled. “Yes, let's do that.”

 

After a late lunch spent talking about their internships, Charlotte steered them past the road for her house and headed for the beach. The sun had probably another hour and a half before it went down so the sand would be cooler and the beach would be emptier.

At the end of a long road that ran along the beach, she handed her keys to the valet at the Bridgehampton Tennis and Surf Club. She pulled out her membership card and flashed it to the doorman and indicated Rafael was with her. But they didn't go inside. Instead she took off her Sperry’s and her and Rafael silently headed around the club onto the sand and the club’s private beach area.

Suddenly she stopped when they reached the end of the club and where the beach began and turned around.

“Raf,” she said alarmed, looking behind them. He spun around. “Idiot.” She took off sprinting towards the water, laughing at his gullibility. He swore and dashed to catch up her which he did easily. They panted as they reached the water’s edge and she gently splashed some at him. He kicked some back.

“Come on,” she said between breaths, “walk with me.” Rafael joined her as they walked, holding their shoes as they tread slowly along the beach. Their feet sunk quickly into the sand and absorbed the water where their footprints fell. It had been too long since he'd felt sand between his toes. Her white-painted toenails gave her a sudden endearing quality.

He broke the moments of silence. “Thank you for today. Actually,” he indicated around them, “for all of this.”

She shrugged, watching her feet sink in as she walked. “Least I could do.”

“No,” he scolded, “it's too much. I don't know how to repay you.”

Quickly her head snapped to look at him. “There's no repayment.” She took a moment to choose her words. “You are enough payment.”

He stifled a laugh, pointing at his chest. “Me? Right. Unfortunately I have nothing to give you.”

“I don’t see it that way.” Off to their right there was a family of seagulls walking parallel to them. He closed his eyes for an instant, taking in the sounds of them as they squawked to each other. He had a fleeting thought to take a snapshot in his head of the moment: the seagull family, his feet sinking in the sand, the sound of the colliding waves, the feeling of her walking next to him, the simple awareness of her presence.

He took in a deep breath to speak but stopped himself to find the question he wanted. “What did you mean when you said ‘this is all I have’?”

“Hmm,” she pondered as if she didn’t want to think back to what she said. “I’m a stereotype. White, money, privilege, with an emotionally distant father. Isn’t that how ‘ _we all are_?’” She emphasized the last point of _we_. “Look I’m not complaining. I had an amazing childhood and continue to have an amazing life. So I didn’t go to vet school. Oh well. I play polo. Same thing. I have a secure future and a good education. But I don’t know what it’s like to know someone.”

“Hm?”

She rolled her eyes at herself, knowing she wasn’t making any sense. She chewed on her cheek, eyes searching the waves for inspiration on how to illustrate what she meant. “I don’t really know my family. I know what they like to eat and their favorite color and I’ve heard stories of when they were growing up and what they do for a living. I know how to cause a fight and what pushes their buttons. But I don’t know what my dad’s afraid of. I don’t know…” she thought of another example, “I don’t know what his childhood dreams were!” She made a circle of the world with her shoes in the air. Her voice got smaller. “I don’t really know him.”

“Have you ever asked him?” He wanted to take the words back as soon as they came out of his mouth. But she didn’t seem to be bothered after she shot him a quick smirk. “He doesn’t like talking unless it’s business. So if I ask what he wanted to be when he grew up that wouldn’t really benefit the conversation, would it? I mean it would benefit me! But it’s not going to move the economy forward.” She hesitated and a quick shiver went through her. “I guess I feel like it’s too late to know. Or ask. Would it really change anything? I mean if you suddenly started being best friends with your dad would that really change anything?”

“Maybe he’d leave my mamí alone.” His tone was darker and his answer came out before he had a chance to process it.

“See? I don’t even think I would want that.”

“I wouldn’t.” He paused for a moment as it clicked in his head and he turned sideways so he was facing her as they walked. He stepped his feet past each other left to right. “I know why, too!” Pointing at her in sudden realization. “Because if I was friends with him, it would mean we think alike. It would mean we have something in common or that we have the same interests or that we agree with each other. That we are similar. And I am nothing like him.”

“But you are,” she pushed back at him. His face grew angry but she held up her hand. “I’m not saying it’s fun! But you do have things in common and you do have a similar background and that’s okay.”

“No, you’re wrong,” he said harshly. “That’s not true. I am nothing like him. Nothing.”

“Just because you don’t want to be doesn’t mean you’re not.”

His voice was angered. “Oh and just because you and your father both play polo that means you and him are alike?”

“Who’s Yelena?”

Rafael froze. His feet sunk further into the sand and water rushed over his ankles.

“What?” His heart skipped a beat and his mouth ran dry.

Charlotte stopped walking and faced the shore. “At your house, Eddie mentioned Yelena. Seemed like she was important to you.”

“Why would you say that?” The distress and furrow in his brow told her she was right.

“I don't know. Just the way it seemed,” she stated calmly, trying not to seem accusatory.

“Well that was a long time ago. I'm not interested in talking about it.”

She nodded slowly and turned to continue walking back towards the Club.

His defenses up, he wanted her to have a taste of her own medicine. “You know I've been here for two days now and I've probably said twenty words to your father.”

Her face turned to stone. “Yeah well some would consider that a luxury.”

“How do you feel spending the money of someone you don't talk to?”

That animated her. She dropped her jaw at him. “Wow, Barba, laying it on thick are we?”

“Asking about Yelena was thick.” She liked how he said her name in an accent as if it was a dying remnant.

She bit her bottom lip and looked out at the open ocean, dragging her feet though the small waves as they pulled back towards the water. “I don't know what it's like because I don't know what it's like without it.”

“Well, you've seen it,” he said quickly, almost angrily. “At my house.” His eyes grew distant. The blue of the ocean contrasted their olive greenness.

“Actually,” Charlotte interjected in an amused tone, “I disagree. I liked being at your dinner table. Know why? Because I was mad. Then I was frustrated. Then embarrassed and defensive and then,” she waved her shoes around, “I don't know, relieved and stressed and a bunch of other feelings. You know what, I never get to feel that.”

“How lucky,” he spat back.

“No, no it's not. I'm not allowed to feel that,” she retorted, pointing at her heart. “We don't ‘feel’ at the dinner table. We don't talk about anything that might cause an emotion. When I was with your family I felt. Period. That was what I liked. It wasn't even that I was angry, it was just the ability to feel _something_ of value.”

“You can't tell me there aren't times you're angry.”

“Yeah, I get angry but ‘keep it to yourself’,” she mocked her father by using a deep voice and swinging her arms like a dramatization of a man walking.

Rafael giggled despite the subject. “Oh is that what he sounds like?”

“Precisely. It gets deeper when he's drunk.”

Rafael’s thoughts raced. He wanted to say something and then didn't but thought there would be no better time than now. “Does your father hit you?”

Charlotte sighed and looked back up the beach. “Nope. Never. Never touched any of us.”

He nodded gently. “That's good.”

Charlotte cycled through a couple facial expressions. “It is. Technically. But again, sometimes I wish I meant enough to him that he would.”

“Meant enough?” Rafael questioned.

“Well,” she searched for the right way to put it, “no, I know I mean something. I guess,” she put one hand on her hip, “I guess more like I wish I evoked enough of a response in him for doing something that he'd even consider it.”

The two arrived back at the water’s edge in front of the Club. Charlotte indicated that they head back up towards the chairs. They found two white lounge seats dug deep in the sand and a waiter came over to take their order. Two mimosas. Rafael assumed they would be made with the finest champagne.

“Why did you ask about Yelena?” Rafael finally asked.

Charlotte smiled, putting her head back against the chair and closing her eyes. She put her sunglasses on the table between them and wiggled her toes in the sand, making circles. The sun was setting and it left the beach with a cool sea breeze and a slight chill that predicted the night to come.

“I would want to say pure curiosity but I'd be lying. I think part curiosity and part jealousy.”

He snorted. “Jealously?”

“It's a girl emotion, you wouldn't understand.”

“Oh right. One of those.” He took a sip of his drink and let it fizzle down his throat. “What do you want to know?”

She turned to him. “I don't really know.”

“That's a lie,” he snapped quickly, sipping again.

She narrowed her eyes. “It is a lie.”

“What do you want to know?”

“You know you could just answer with the basic responses of how long you two dated, how you met, how you broke up, how serious it was, who cheated on who, you know, normal things.”

He raised an eyebrow, unperturbed. “I want to know why you want to know.”

She sighed dramatically. “Can't you just answer?”

“Can't you?”

“The fuck, Barba.” She settled back again, drink in her lap. He smiled victoriously as she stayed silent for a moment. “Did you love her?”

“Oh, okay, so that's the ‘normal’ question you're going with?”

“I didn't say I was going to ask normal questions.”

“Is this a cross examination?”

“Just answer the question, counselor.”

He kept his eyes on her even though hers were closed.

_Why?_ He wondered. _Why is this throwing her off?_

He repeated his initial inquiry gentler. “Why do you want to know?”

She suddenly sat forward, elbows on her knees, holding her drink, angled towards him although both their chairs faced the ocean. “Why are you making this so difficult?”

He caught her right where he wanted her. “What are you so afraid to say?”

Her face turned to fear and a sense of loss. “I'm afraid you loved her more than you could ever love me.”

He frowned, settling back in his chair, shaking his head. “I did love her. In another life. We grew up together. We were supposed to be together. Through high school, then when I was supposed to go to Fordham or another local school and then get a job that was better than my dad’s and then get married and have two-point-five kids.” Hand through his hair. “But it changed when I wanted to move away to school.” He paused for a moment, not looking at her, keeping his eyes on the sunset. “She begged me not to go at first. Told me to choose her and family over some dream that would never come true. Said I was abandoning her. And she was right. I packed up and left and never wanted to look back. I tried to talk to her. I even asked her to move up to Massachusetts with me.” He closed his eyes for a couple moments before continuing. “I came back for a break in undergrad and there she was, with Alex. Talked to me like we were distant buddies.” Then his eyes grew darker and his face developed a redder hue and a sick smile. “And he knew it hurt.” He shook his head again. “When he kissed her in front of me, when he put his arm around her waist, when we hung out and he talked about what…” his expression twisted and his hands curled. He sat forward, fury in his eyes. “And he talked about how she liked it when he smacked her ass and what she said when he fucked her.” He laughed darkly. “He knew it killed me. It was like she chose him in spite of me. As if he was who I was supposed to be. Fine,” he spat, taking a large sip, “have her. She's not worth it.” He sat deep again, putting his head back and closing his eyes as if that laid the subject to rest and all was well with the world. Charlotte's stomach turned into a knot that kept tying itself over and over. She felt sick.

She took a sip as she held her drink, elbows on her knees, chillier than before. She didn't know what to say and didn't want to patronize his feelings by making something up for the sake of breaking the silence.

He spoke without opening his eyes. “The answer is no, you shouldn't be afraid that I couldn't love you as much as I loved her.”

Her heart knot tied tighter.

“Because she didn't buy you nice suits?” Charlotte tried to lighten the moment and her own pain.

Rafael didn't smile. “No. She did a lot for me. She was there for me when I needed to leave my house in the middle of the night. When I didn't want to go home. When our group got in trouble and needed a safe basement to wait out in or dress Eddie’s wound of some sort that he got defending us. She kept me going.” The knots around Charlotte's heart pulled and twisted until it was painful to breathe. “But she was selfish in the end. She didn't care what I wanted. She wanted the lawyer, the husband, the family, right now, right there. She didn't want to fight for it.” He sat forward and finished his drink. “I could love you more than I ever loved her. Than I ever loved anyone.”

Her breath caught in her throat but she watched her response, ever guarded. She looked down at the sand but she knew her face was going flush.

He quickly interjected. “How about we head home?”

 

The silent drive home and into the driveway displayed various lights from the downstairs rooms. Charlotte surmised that her father was probably in his office and her mother was probably on the phone with someone walking around the great room or the kitchen as she often did when she was on the phone. Her heart was pounding and she felt like if she looked down at her chest she could see it beating. She came around to the front of her car and leaned quietly against the hood, not wanting to look up at him. He closed the door to the passenger side and walked shakily towards her. He couldn’t explain his pounding heart. She looked up at him and swallowed hard, seeing him in front of her.

Moments of silence and tension passed between them. “Do you want to see the pool house? It wasn’t on the tour,” she asked. Rafael tried to smile and nodded since he was not able to speak.

He followed behind her around the side of the house through the grass. He had to concentrate on walking and not only watching her. He saw her look quickly at the back porch and the pool to make sure no one was sitting outside or that her mom wasn’t out on the phone. She continued forward and he followed behind her. His mind was racing. He didn’t know how they both knew what was happening, but there was some kind of understanding between them. She carefully opened and closed the gate to the pool and as she silently shut the gate he paused in front of her, too close so that she would need to look up at him and meet his eyes. He could smell the seduction. She turned around quickly and led him to the pool house which was like a small guest apartment that matched the outside of the main house but was completely separate. Charlotte punched in a four-digit code to the door and squeaked it open into the darkness.

Rafael felt a rush of adrenaline. He didn’t care that this was a new place or if she wanted to take things slower. He didn’t care what their relationship was like or if they hadn’t had a conversation about it yet. He took in her gaze as she turned around to look at him at the gate and he knew. And she knew.

He took the doorknob from her and shut the door which automatically locked it. The only light was streaming in gently from the windows. They were in a half-living room half-kitchen that was decorated like the inside of a yacht.

He could hear their shortened, deepened breathing passing between them.

“Why didn’t you turn on the light?”

“What?” she asked, caught off guard.

“This isn’t a very good tour,” he raised an eyebrow, now inches from her face. She laughed nervously.

“I’m sorry I’m disappointing you.”

“Never,” he hissed.

Rafael took her face in his hands and forced his mouth on hers, drawing her into him as the scent from the ocean that lingered on her filled his nose. He breathed her in, feeling her separate his lips and her tongue begging for Rafael to let her be part of him. He obliged her, groaning into her mouth in response to her demand. Abruptly she pulled away from him and stepped backwards, kicking off her sandals and turning to walk into the next room. He watched her disappear into the dark doorway and tried to catch his breath and calm himself but he couldn’t. Slipping out of his shoes and leaving them abandoned next to hers he followed her into the small bedroom.

The room was even darker but he could distinguish the outline of her features as she slipped her shirt over her head. Moving from the doorframe he came up behind her and placed his mouth on her shoulders. His fingers drew the two strings to her bikini top, letting it travel to the floor. His hands enclosed around her stomach and he felt her tremble at his touch. She turned around in his arms and reached up to kiss him again, only breaking from him to lift his shirt off. He began to walk forwards which caused her to have to step backwards until her legs hit the edge of the bed. Rafael took another step and she collapsed onto the fabric. He instinctively reached for the silver button on her shorts and she bit her lip, doing the same with his. He didn't let her finish his before pulling hers to the floor and indicating for her to move back. Complying, he crawled over her, noticing he could see the redness in her face and how she was slightly shaking. His immediate thought was to again slow down, ask permission, wait. But he couldn't. He trusted her to tell him to stop but until then he didn't trust himself to hold back.

She noticed him pause for a moment and took the opportunity to work on his shorts, squirming around under him as a purposeful tease. “What?” she asked in a whisper, “second thoughts?”

He grinned wickedly and his body accepted her question as a challenge. “No,” he breathed and dropped to his elbows, turning his arm under him and pushing it down her stomach and under her bikini bottom. Reflexively she closed her legs but he was quicker. He shoved his knee in between hers, preventing her from resisting. His fingers worked their way into her and she put her head back, beautifully whispering his name. He bent over her, planting kisses along her neck, chest, stomach, until she stopped him, pulling him up to her mouth, using her feet to push his shorts and boxers off. His finger unlaced her bikini bottom and he lowered himself to her, his arms trembling with desire. She bit down on his lower lip and traced her fingers along his body.

Frustrated at his need for her he groaned into her mouth, “I want you.”

“But…”

“No,” he pleaded, “now.”

She pushed at his stomach and pouted her lips. “Or what?”

He paused, tilting his head. “What?”

Incredibly gently she cupped her hand around his neck, barely squeezing. “I said. Or. What?”

She felt his throat moan under her. “What do you want,” he said desperately.

Carefully she squeezed a little harder. “Beg for it.”

His face turned hungry as he felt her hand against his neck as he talked. “Please,”

“Please what?” More pressure.

“Charlotte,” his hand wrapped around her wrist and tore her hand from his neck, pinning it on the bed next to her head. Before she could object his mouth was on hers and he slipped in between her legs, feeling her whole body react to him. Letting her hands free she gripped his forearms from the pressure, taking in a deep breath, his name again escaping from her. As he moved he bowed his head to her body, sucking kisses and nipping at her glistening skin. She laced her fingers in his hair, gripping the strands as her intensity increased, straining against him, begging him not to stop. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him as far into her as he could go. He scolded her since it made him work harder. She only laughed in his ear and her teeth grazed his jaw, teasing him more, infuriating him until he made her bring her knees up, angling her body up to him so he was simultaneously pressing against her. She stopped laughing and swore at him, digging her nails into his arms. He watched her, responded to her, kept going when she trembled and changed when she could breathe again. Until her body seized under him, pleading his name, and this was enough to bring him with her, his head bowed next to hers, his own body overcome with excruciating pleasure. The moment shattered within them and around them, seemingly frozen in time, until they broke, breathing again, chests rising and falling against each other.

Rafael's head stayed buried besides her in the nape of her neck as his hot breath caressed her shoulder. She lifted her hands and placed them on his back, gently letting her fingers glide across his skin. He swore in her ear and she smiled, not wanting him to move or ever leave. As he made a movement she quickly pulled him back into her, keeping him in this moment for as long as she could.

His body melted against hers, finding more comfort in this moment than he ever knew. He felt that he could sleep here, in the curve of her neck and shoulder and be forever safe. He knew he couldn't stay in this moment for eternity, but while he was here, he held on to it for as long as he could.


	7. Chapter 7 and Epilogue

“But I thought just moment ago you hadn’t seen Mr. Thompson for a couple weeks.”

“Well…” the witness froze, “that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Oh!” Charlotte turned on her red heels. “What did you mean then?”

“Your Honor,” Charlie stood from his seat at the prosecution’s table. “I’d like to request a recess to confer with my client.”

Dr. Wolff raised an eyebrow. “You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood today, Charles. You have five minutes.”

Adam, playing the witness, hopped down from the stand and headed to Charlie who huddled together with Josh, his second attorney on the case. Charlotte smirked and twirled her pen around as she slid across the defense’s table, sitting in front of Rafael who had his head propped up on his hand, his elbow on the armrest of his second defense attorney’s chair.

“He’s fucked,” Charlotte whispered. She fought the urge to put her feet in his lap.

He smiled up at her, fighting the urge trace her legs up her pencil skirt. “You’re brilliant.”

“You’re just saying that because we’re on the same side this time.”

“You’re right, I’m very lucky.” He shifted in his suit: his light grey slacks matched his tailored grey blazer, underneath was a crisp white pointed-collar French dress shirt, a navy blue tie with white specks, and two pocket squares, one pure white and one a light baby blue, and a black leather belt that matched black leather lace-up wing-tip shoes. Of course, above his shoes were a pair of flamboyant navy blue and light blue striped socks. He looked for a moment down at her Loubouton shoes. He remembered her wearing them before, during mock but he didn’t know their value before.

“You want me to keep going with this line of questioning or switch to talking about what he did after he called the police?” She asked, conferring with Rafael as she picked up her notepad. He didn’t move or answer, just stared at the Hermes belt around her skirt. “Raf?” She picked up a scent of his cologne. He’d chosen Acqua Di Gio for the day. Looking at the wrist holding up his head she could make out his cufflinks, the ones she’d given him for his birthday. They were small, round, and gold, with RB carved gracefully into them. She remembered smelling the coffee on his breath as he begged her to return them but to no avail. Now they were his prized possessions.

“Keep going,” he said softly. She narrowed her eyes at him and slid off the desk. Her seductive perfume swept through his nose. Adam popped back on the stand as the gavel hit.

“Court will return to order. Miss Huntingdon please continue your cross.”

“Thank you, your honor.” She turned to Adam without missing a beat, twirling her pen again. “Mr. Thompson I’ll re-ask my question. I thought you said you hadn’t seen your brother in two weeks. Now you’re saying that’s not what you meant. Which is it?” She paced in front of the witness stand.

“I hadn’t seen my brother in two weeks.”

“Had you had any contact with your brother in those two weeks?”

“No.”

She froze and looked up at him. “No? Are you sure?” Adam looked at the prosecutor. “Mr. Thompson, please look at me. Are you sure?”

“Objection,” Charlie stood up, “asked and answered.”

“Actually, your honor, I haven’t gotten an answer as to if he is sure,” Charlotte argued, grasping her pen in both hands.

“Sustained. Answer the question, Mr. Thompson.”

“No, no I didn’t have any contact with him.”

Rafael held up a stack of papers for Charlotte to come over to grab from him, already knowing their angle.

“Defense’s three, your honor, the witness’ phone records for the two weeks prior to the murder.”

Charlie stood again. “Your honor, we don’t have these as-”

Charlotte interrupted. “If the prosecution checked the list this morning they would find the phone records submitted into evidence.”

The room was silent. Dr. Wolff raised his eyebrows at Charlie and Josh sitting at the prosecution’s table. “Gentlemen did you look over the list of evidence before coming in today?” The two exchanged glances before shaking their heads. “Well, that’s too bad you didn’t because this was properly added. Proceed Miss Huntingdon.”

She nodded at the judge. “Mr. Thompson can you please read the highlighted portion of the phone records for the jury?” Charlotte handed the stack to Adam.

“Um, April thirtieth, three-twenty-four AM. Call incoming from Hunter Thompson.”

“And did you pick up and answer that call Mr. Thompson? Remember, you’re under oath.”

“No! I didn’t!”

“You didn’t? Who did?”

Rafael quickly looked over at Charlie and Josh knowing they could object for speculation but they didn’t.

“Maybe my girlfriend. I don’t know, but it wasn’t me.”

“Stop!” Dr. Wolff yelled. “Boys! Not going to object for speculation? Come on. You’re not with it today!” They didn’t have an excuse. Charlotte looked smugly at them. “Well, let’s stop for today so the prosecution can have the weekend to get their shit together. Let’s not let this happen again, guys.” The gavel sounded and Charlotte clicked back over to the table where she started gathering up her notes.

“What are your plans tonight?” Rafael asked her.

“I’m headed out! Come with?”

He shook his head. “No, my aunt needs me at the house. Do you have a match this weekend?”

She put her head up and thought for a moment. “Yes, we should on Sunday afternoon but it’s supposed to storm so we’ll see. Think you could make it?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said smiling gently at her.

She smiled back and slipped on her fall jacket, heading out of the courtroom with the rest of the students. Rafael could hear her giving Josh, Adam, and Charlie a hard time for their mistakes and he chuckled to himself. The weather wasn’t as friendly as it had been when he had come into the building earlier that day so instead of his usual walk, he hopped on a bus to head back to his aunt’s house. It had been a long week and he was looking forward to a home-cooked Cuban dinner and a good night’s sleep.

 

The pounding on his door didn’t immediately wake him but his aunt shaking him out of his deep sleep did the trick.

“What? What? What’s wrong?”

“Rafael, come downstairs, quickly.” His aunt physically pulled him out of bed. He was chilly in only a plain white short-sleeved shirt and a pair of boxers. Practically tripping down the stairs he was looking for the right questions to ask his aunt about what was going on when he got to the landing in the small living room and he froze.

Charlotte was sitting on the couch, soaking wet, wrapped in a fresh blanket. She was crying heavily and her makeup was smeared all over her face. She was cut and bruised, fresh blood staining her cheeks.

“Oh my god, Charlotte what the hell happened?” He sprang to the couch where he sat next to her, bringing her into his arms. She dropped into his shoulder, crying uncontrollably into him. He held her tightly and didn’t say anything else, just letting her wail, screaming into his chest. His aunt kept the children upstairs and let them have their space.

Finally, she spoke through her sobs. “It was my fault, Rafael.” He wanted to ask her to clarify, but took a page from her book and gave her time to talk while his chin rested on the top of her head and his hand stroked her back through the heavy blanket. It wasn’t until now that he realized she was barefoot. “I should have known better. I should have left earlier.”

He couldn’t hold back anymore. “What happened, Charlotte?”

“I know I didn’t want it to happen but I could have been more careful.”

“Charlotte,” he lifted her from him, “what happened?” He asked calmly but pressed her.

She needed more time to cry in front of him while she found the words. He tried to be patient but he looked her in the eye and asked again.

“I asked for it.”

And suddenly he knew.

And the color drained from his face.

And he felt sick to his stomach as his fists clenched and his jaw tightened.

“Who the fuck touched you?” he growled at her.

“I can’t-”

“CHARLOTTE,” he bellowed, “who the FUCK WAS IT?”

“No, Rafael,” she shook her head, “you can’t.” He got up from the couch and ran his hands through his hair, pacing the floor. He moved his hands to his hips, then his face, then in the air, not knowing what to do with himself. She curled up in a ball on the couch. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“Can’t tell anyone?” he roared. “We’re going to the fucking police right after you tell me who the FUCK HURT YOU!”

“Stop s...screaming at me!”

He paused, realizing what he was doing. “Okay,” he calmed himself and came to sit by her again. “You’re right, you’re right, I shouldn’t be screaming at you. You didn’t…you didn’t do anything wrong but I need to know who it was.”

With him calmer, she spoke up a bit through hiccups and tears. “I can’t,” she shook her head.

“Char-”

“I’m not going to tell you! Stop asking! I just need to stay here or something. I can’t go home.”

“You need to go to the hospital. They need to do a rape kit and we need to call the police-”

“Oh come on, Rafael, you know that’s not going to do anything. There’s nothing they can do.”

“There is. I’ll make sure there is. I…” he turned to the back of the couch and punched into the pillow as hard as he could. “I want this bastard going away for the rest of his life.”

“No, please, there’s nothing you can do. Can I please just go to sleep?”

“We need to-”

“Just shut up!” she yelled at him. “Please, Rafael,” she pleaded, her eyes heavy and closing. “Please.”

He was between tears and anger. He knew what he needed to do, what the right thing to do was. But he also wanted to put her first. He knew they should be on their way to the hospital to do a rape kit and take care of her cuts but he couldn’t imagine her making it there. He closed his eyes for a moment, hearing her gently sob next to him. Finally he calmed himself.

“Okay, okay, come on. Upstairs.” He helped her get up from the couch, keeping the blanket wrapped around her. Slowly they climbed the stairs to the second floor where his aunt was in the hallway. She asked him what happened and he said he would take care of it and to just let him handle it. She was still concerned but he exchanged reassurance in Spanish before taking Charlotte into the bathroom. Closing the door behind him and locking it, he began running a warm bath for her. While the water ran, they stood in the middle of the closet-sized room and he embraced her, rubbing her back and her tangled curls. Testing the water and turning off the tap, he turned to her.

“I need to you trust me okay?” She thought for a moment before nodding slightly. Very cautiously, he removed the blanket from around her which revealed her tattered button-up and skirt ripped up the middle. He took a couple deep breaths so he wouldn’t turn around a punch the tile, bringing his mind back to her. Gently he peeled of each layer of clothing, asking permission before removing the next piece. Her underwear were missing which would have hidden the signs of her abuse. Her thighs were bruised and red, and so was the rest of her. He tried not to focus on that aspect. She stood shaking and naked in the middle of the bathroom, crying.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Tears formed in Rafael’s angry green eyes.

He ignored the comment. “Come on,” and he led her to the bathtub where they both took a step in. He sat behind her, Charlotte in his lap, himself still in his pajamas, and he wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder. Tears rolled down his cheeks onto her back. She brought her legs up and held them to her chest, her forehead on her knees as she cried. He carefully reached up for the washcloth and brought it down to her, soaking it. He then slowly washed her entire body, not caring about rape kits or prosecution details. Should he have? Probably. But he didn’t. His hands trembled as he brushed over her cuts. He washed between her legs which made her sob harder and cry in agony. Tears flowed from his eyes into the warm water as he soaked in her pain, trying to take it from her. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she turned her head sideways.

“Rafael, I’m so tired,” she whispered.

He nodded and took in a deep breath. He asked her to wait for a moment while he grabbed a towel from the bar attached to the tile wall and he stood, waiting for her as she got out. Again he wrapped his arms around her tightly and dried her as much as he could while she shivered against him. Asking her to wait again, he rushed into his bedroom and brought back a large pair of sweatpants and his softest undershirt. He helped her slip them on since she was trembling and led her into his bedroom. He changed quickly out of his dripping clothes and got a new blanket from the hall closet. He wrapped her in this and settled her under his blankets with him. She laid facing into his chest, his smell and heartbeat calming her, his deep breaths lulling her into sleep.

“Rafael,” she said into his chest. He didn’t respond but she knew he was listening as he rubbed her back, “I love you.”

He closed his eyes, tears reforming, and put his lips on the top of her head whispering into her, “I love you too.”

 

Morning broke and the light streaming in from his window caused him to stir. He immediately realized he was very cold and noticed his arms were empty. His mind flooded with the events of the night before and he flipped over.

“Charlotte?” he said. But she wasn’t there. She wasn’t anywhere. He leapt out of bed.

“Charlotte?” he called down the hallway and into the bathroom. Nothing. He ran down the stairs to the kitchen where no one was awake yet. Not there. He knew she must have taken off and gone home. Suddenly, however, he realized he didn’t know how to get to her home. He picked up the phone and dialed her number instead.

“Mike!” Rafael shouted into the phone. “Mike, it’s Rafael. Look is-?”

“Mr. Barba, I appreciate you calling but unfortunately Miss Huntingdon cannot speak with you right now.”

“Look I just need to talk to her about-”

“She will call you when she is ready, sir.” And with that, he hung up. Rafael was stunned. He called again. No answer. And again. Nothing. He slammed the phone down, running his hands through his hair. Hot, angry tears streamed down his face. But what could he do? She was obviously home. She had a good family surrounding her. They can handle it right? He scolded himself for letting her wash away the evidence. He sat on the couch, jamming his head in his hands. And he waited.

He waited for a full week but Charlotte wasn’t in class.

She wasn’t in mock.

She wasn’t anywhere.

He called every day, twice a day. But she wouldn’t speak with him. He doubted it was her decision not to. But he didn’t have a choice.

And then on the seventh day, the letter arrived. His aunt handed it to him silently. Refraining from tearing it open, he gently peeled back the envelope and found the handwritten note.

_Rafael,_

_I never meant for this to happen. I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry for everything. There isn’t very much I can tell you so I’ll say what I need to and that will be all._

_I lied to you. I lied to you that day in the store while you tried on your suits and your beautiful ties. When I said I have nothing else, I meant it. We don’t wear $7,000 suits because we want to; we wear $7,000 suits because we have to. It’s not to show everyone something, it’s to hide something from everyone. We are hiding. We hide behind fabrics and vests and ties, cashmere and perfume and handbags and polo matches and Ivy League schools. We hide because we don’t have anything else. We don’t know who we are. We get dressed in the morning with a shirt and a button up and slacks and a vest and socks and a tie and a blazer and pocket squares and shoes and belts and watches and rings and cologne because we don’t have anything else. We are hiding. Never hide. You don’t have to hide. You get to be whoever you want and whatever you want. I envy you. And I will miss you greatly._

_I don’t know when we will ever see each again. Or if we ever will. But I need you to know that you are the most important person in the world to me and you are worth more to me than anything I could ever own._

_You are going to be the best attorney the world has ever seen. I will never experience the feeling of justice myself, but maybe, someday, you can bring justice to the victims who need it most. Promise me that you’ll try._

_“They were careless people, Tom and Daisy – they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back to their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made…” -The Great Gatsby  
_

_Char_

 

 

**Epilogue**

That had been it. There had been no more. In all this time he hadn’t seen her or heard from her. Every once in a while he would check the news or online to see where she was but he couldn’t bear to contact her or try and see her again.

Barba’s heart raced and his mind pounded. What was he going to say? He looked down at his suit and tears welled in his eyes. He added up the total in his head. He was hiding. He was hiding everything. He was hiding from the pain and the anger and the loss. Of her. And behind the beautiful threads and colors and leathers he was a shell of what she took from him.

Rounding the block, his knees grew weak when he saw her under the tree. His eyes grew hazy and out of focus and his feet somehow propelled him forward.

And she turned and she saw him. And her face beamed and she smiled and he found himself wanting to run and he reached her and the tears were about to fall when she stood up and parted her lips and said…


End file.
